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Pitance of Time - Terry Kelly
Post em!
AM - 3
PM - 7
PPM - Hockey Game
In Flanders Fields - John McCrae
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place,
and in the sky, the larks still bravely singing fly
scarce heard amidst the guns below.
We are the dead, short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset's glow
Loved and were loved,
And now we lie in Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw the torch -
Be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep
Though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.
Post em!
AM - 3
PM - 7
PPM - Hockey Game
In Flanders Fields - John McCrae
In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place,
and in the sky, the larks still bravely singing fly
scarce heard amidst the guns below.
We are the dead, short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset's glow
Loved and were loved,
And now we lie in Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw the torch -
Be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep
Though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.
