They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset 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.
Lest we forget .
Moderator: Al
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Re: Lest we forget .
An elderly British gentleman of 83 arrived in Paris by plane. At the French customs desk he took a few minutes to locate his passport in his carry-on bag.
'You have been to France before, Monsieur?' the customs officer asked sarcastically.
The elderly gentleman admitted he had been to France previously.
'Then you should know enough to 'ave your passport ready,' the customs officer said.
The elderly gentleman replied, 'The last time I was here, I didn't have to show it.'
'Impossible! The British always have to show their passports on arrival in France !'
The Man gave the Frenchman a long hard look. Then he quietly explained;
'Well, when I came ashore on the Beach on D-Day in 1944, I couldn't find any f***ing Frenchmen to show it to...!!
Wear your Poppy with Pride
Apologies for the swear word (abbreviated), but it is poignant to the story
http://i44.tinypic.com/ne8hw9.jpg