Folks,

Dux:

You forgot? Ahhh...but for me and for many others who visit here, they are all unforgettable. Thank you for reminding me how our minds seem to delight in many similar things. That poem by Kennedy is food for thought. I also love the poetry of Robert Service who died as recently as 1958. This one isn't as popular as the "Dan McGraw" poems that made him half a million. I also like his "Call of the Wild". This particular poem seems to me especially pertinent here. It gives one pause for thought. I once wrote a story with a similar theme. After I diligently peruse my insurance policies for loop holes I will go down into the archives once more and see if I can find it.

The March of the Dead
The cruel war was over -- oh, the triumph was so sweet!
We watched the troops returning, through our tears;
There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet glittering street,
And you scarce could hear the music for the cheers.
And you scarce could see the house-tops for the flags that flew between;
The bells were pealing madly to the sky;
And everyone was shouting for the Soldiers of the Queen,
And the glory of an age was passing by.

And then there came a shadow, swift and sudden, dark and drear;
The bells were silent, not an echo stirred.
The flags were drooping sullenly, the men forgot to cheer;
We waited, and we never spoke a word.
The sky grew darker, darker, till from out the gloomy rack
There came a voice that checked the heart with dread:
"Tear down, tear down your bunting now, and hang up sable black;
They are coming -- it's the Army of the Dead."

They were coming, they were coming, gaunt and ghastly, sad and slow;
They were coming, all the crimson wrecks of pride;
With faces seared, and cheeks red smeared, and haunting eyes of woe,
And clotted holes the khaki couldn't hide.
Oh, the clammy brow of anguish! the livid, foam-flecked lips!
The reeling ranks of ruin swept along!
The limb that trailed, the hand that failed, the bloody finger tips!
And oh, the dreary rhythm of their song!

"They left us on the veldt-side, but we felt we couldn't stop
On this, our England's crowning festal day;
We're the men of Magersfontein, we're the men of Spion Kop,
Colenso -- we're the men who had to pay.
We're the men who paid the blood-price. Shall the grave be all our gain?
You owe us. Long and heavy is the score.
Then cheer us for our glory now, and cheer us for our pain,
And cheer us as ye never cheered before."

The folks were white and stricken, and each tongue seemed weighted with lead;
Each heart was clutched in hollow hand of ice;
And every eye was staring at the horror of the dead,
The pity of the men who paid the price.
They were come, were come to mock us, in the first flush of our peace;
Through writhing lips their teeth were all agleam;
They were coming in their thousands -- oh, would they never cease!
I closed my eyes, and then -- it was a dream.

There was triumph, triumph, triumph down the scarlet gleaming street;
The town was mad; a man was like a boy.
A thousand flags were flaming where the sky and city meet;
A thousand bells were thundering the joy.
There was music, mirth and sunshine; but some eyes shone with regret;
And while we stun with cheers our homing braves,
O God, in Thy great mercy, let us nevermore forget
The graves they left behind, the bitter graves.

Robert Service

While I was rummaging around down there in the mold encrusted bowels of HWH, I happened upon a very old bottle of Château Thames Embankment. OK I know that for that particular label a month is considered quite old, however once I smeared away the grime and cobwebs I fond the vintage date to be especially ancient. This old thing was bottled way, way back in the year 2006!

Wait, what's that you say, that was just last year...really? Hmmmm. Let me see, 2007 that's this year...last year had to be 2000 and....2006! You're right. Damn! I don't remember the New Years party at all. Still, Dux this bottle is quite old for a Château Thames Embankment. As soon as I pop the genuine plastic cork I'll take a good sip and only then will I pass judgment.

'POP' Tinkle. Glug,glug,glug,glug, fizz .... Slurp! Gag! Wheeze! Spit! Gurgle! Cough! Retch! Hmmmmm. That has to be the best tasting bottle of CTE I've ever experienced. Generosity is my middle name so rather than selfishly drain the bottle, I will save the rest for you Pal. Hurry by, you don't know what you're missing.