Whilst you all kick over the traces of yesterday's shennanigans I'd like you to consider the following statement by a certain General Kiggell:
"Good God, did we really send men to fight in that?" It's 90 years since the Battle of Passchendaele. I for one can remember as a boy the men and women I came across who had been touched by that battle, my grandfather fought there and won a medal. I remember the villages with childless women and no men of a similar age and I remember the survivors' bewilderment at the dawn of the so called swinging sixties. Those bemedalled old men in dark overcoats parading before the cenotaphs on cold November mornings and granddad always ramrod straight with a tear on his ruddy cheek. I find the rememberance of those poor brave souls who perished in the mud and sheer hell of it all far more moving than any discussion of some football club, which unlike so many will stumble along in the future, come what may. For The Fallen With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen in the cause of the free. Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres, There is music in the midst of desolation And a glory that shines upon our tears. They went with songs to the battle, they were young, Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow. They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted; They fell with their faces to the foe. They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them. They mingle not with their laughing comrades again; They sit no more at familiar tables of home; They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam. But where our desires are and our hopes profound, Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight, To the innermost heart of their own land they are known As the stars are known to the Night; As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, To the end, to the end, they remain. Laurence Binyon (1914) _______________________________________________ the Leeds List is an unmoderated mailing list and the list administrators accept no liability for the personal views and opinions of contributors. Leedslist mailing list [email protected] http://list.zetnet.co.uk/mailman/listinfo/leedslist Join The Leeds United Supporters Trust at www.lufctrust.org
