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the Black Watch
the muffled drums draped in black,
rrrum,
rrrum,
rrrum,
timed the steps of the eight by eight, the sixty-four,
rrrum,
rrrum,
rrrum.
the kilted guard made their solemn pace,
in this their duty to this holy place,
a woman wept behind her widow’s lace,
while the pipers played, “Amazing Grace”.
the muffled drums draped in black,
rrrum,
rrrum,
tapped one last time to their silent halt,
rrrum.
the sargeant major called, “Colors Bowed,”
the rifles fired three volleys loud,
a sadness fell upon the crowd,
prayers were made and hope endowed.
the clouds above began to grey
and the sky began to cry,
no more words were left to say,
as the day began to die.
silently, reverently,
the Black Watch hid their tears,
for another of their number
had died before their years.
the muffled drums draped in black,
tapped their hushed retreat,
to battlefields, to hell and back,
for this march, they would repeat.
rrrum,
rrrum,
rrrum.
a remembrance of the funeral for my uncle, a member of the Black Watch Regiment, who died in battle.
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