On amber cloth they laid him in the ground
From a war fought with fired cannons
Over sod freshly grown soiled with blood and ash fodder.
History on sacred ground is nothing new
The wars were fought the ghosts that walked
The builders and makers made a nation,
All walked this laden field.


Elysian cries and cattle prospered with sweat
And natures gentle rain; worms made it fertile ground.
Grass grew wild for a nearly a hundred springs
Dormant and ancient for a world that lost its way
Now the grasslands wave in the breeze
The tombstones have faded with age,
Still wildflowers blossom in the open fields.

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