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Veteran's Day---

Anthem for Doomed Youth


What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -- -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.


Wilfred Owen
1893-1918
================

Our Europeans are all asleep, listeners, and Diane is saying the real side of war with a poem, and I shall join her with a song:

The Green Fields of France
Well how do you do, Private William McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your grave side?
A rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone that you were only 19
when you joined the glorious fallen in 1916.
And I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene?

CHORUS:
Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
To that faithful heart are you always 19.
Or are you just a stranger without even a name
Forever enclosed behind some glass-pane
In an old photograph torn and tattered and stained
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

Well the sun it shines down on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches are vanished now under the plough
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it is still No Man's Land
And the countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation that was butchered and downed.

And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe them that this war would end war?
But the suffering, the sorrow, some the glory, the shame -
The killing and dying - it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride, it's all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipe lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

If our listeners would like to hear the simple melody, go here:

http://www.greatwar.nl/frames/default-mcbride.html

Yes it's verterans day
great sales at the mall
chevy's with red white and blue bunting
$1,000 off sticker price
today only
Honor a vet
buy some new shoes
and a chevrolet.

I dont' know if you heard Bush's speech, but vets are furious. It was all politics, no real time or respect for the veterans. He is absolutely clueless.

(Lloyd)

He was only seventeen when the letter came in the mail
from the local draft board saying you've got a choice.
Jloin the army or you go to jail.
As he packed his bags, his mother wept saying:
"Daddy don't you think it's a shame?"
"No, I think it will make him a man."
Eleven weeks of boot camp got you doing situps in the day and the night.
Then they ship you out on a boat and they say you are ready to fight.

Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue

Have your breakfast in a Saigon street.
Where the heroin is so strong.
It makes the killing sweet.
Pretty soon you can do no wrong.

Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue

So they send you off on night patrol.
Put a carbine in your hand.
Tely ou not to shoot yourself.
You're supposed to shoot the Vietnam.

Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue

Take a look at my friend Charlie.
He's go tno hands, no legs, no feet.
Now they've got him selling pencils on the corner.
Boys, he begging in the street.
Sa I call up my Congressman.
Saying Mister I have a complaint.
Why are we losing all our boys in the war?
When are we going to learn some restraint?

Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue
Soldier Blue

[sung]River of ****
River of ****
Roll on
River of ****
Well I've been swimming in this river of ****
More than twenty years and I'm gettin tired of it
Don't like swimming over the sewer's eye
Got to keep on swimming cause I don't want to die
[spoken]
Who dealt this mess anyway?
Yeah that's an old card player's term, but it can be used for a lot of things. I mean who was it set up a system, supposedly democratic syatem, where you always end up votin for the lesser of two evils? Was George Washington the lesser of two evils? Sometimes I wonder. We've got this guy that says, For God's sake we've got to quit having violence in this country, while he's spending sixteen thousand dollars a second, snuffing <bleep>.
A wao-o-o!
Big brown river. Bring in the health and wealth and prosperity for every man woman and child.
[sung] River of ****, roll on . . .

From the Fugs album, It Crawled into My Hand, Honest.

No, dear Diane. I no longer give him the courtesy of my ear, nor will I ever.

and edgar. That is one perfect song. <smile>

Ah, listeners, we are allowed to say "****" once in a bit, when the occasion arises.

Back later, folks. One must eat----or die.

green fields of france, one of my faves

Tender Comrade
Billy Bragg

What will you do when the war is over, tender comrade
When we lay down our weary guns
When we return home to our wives and families
And look into the eyes of our sons
What will you say of the bond we had, tender comrade
Will you say that we were brave
As the shells fell all around us
Or that we wept and cried for our mothers
And cursed our fathers
For forgetting that all men are brothers

Will you say that we were heroes
Or that fear of dying among strangers
Tore our innocence and false shame away
And from that moment on deep in my heart I knew
That I would only give my life for love

Brothers in arms in each other arms
Was the only time that I was not afraid
What will you do when the war is over, tender comrade
When we cast off these khaki clothes
And go our separate ways
What will you say of the bond we had
Tender comrade


Think Again
Dick Gaughan

Do you think that the Russians want war?
These are the parents of children who died in the last one
Do you think that it's possible, knowing their past
That they'd ever consider repeating the last
When 20 million were slaughtered by Nazi invasion?
They died fighting on our side, you know,
In a fight to defend humankind
Against Nazi terror and hatred

In the name of humanity, bitterly torn
In the name of our children as yet to be born
Before we do that which can never be undone I beg of you
Think, think again, and again and again and again and again

Do you think that the Russians want war?
They're the sons and the daughters of parents who died in the last one
Do you think that they'd want to go through that again
The destruction, the bloodshed, the suffering and pain?
In the second world war out of every three dead one was Russian
If we try with all of our power
Can we not find a way
To peacefully settle our difference?

Do you think that the Russians want war?
Will the voice of insanity lead you to total destruction?
Will you stumble to death as though you were blind?
Will you cause the destruction of all humankind?
Will you die because you don't like their political system?
There will be no survivors you know
No one left to scream in the night
And condemn our stupidity

From Dover Beach, by Matthew Arnold

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Join the army, travel to exotic distant lands, meet exciting and unusual people . . . and kill them.

I'm thinking people are beginning to think I am opposed to war. It's just a personality disorder, carry on.

Ah, dys. I always try and look at the other side too much, I suppose.

A way to say good night with a song.

This version did not chart but
In 1967 Jack Jones took it to # 99
Title song from the film starring Yves Montand and Candice Bergen which was a follow-up to
director Claude Lelouche's "A Man and A woman"


Come with me, my love, and seize this day and live it, live it fully, live it fast
Never thinking once about tomorrow till tomorrow's been and gone and past
We'll pour the wine and fill the cup of joy and drink a drink as if it were the last
Live, just live for life

In Paree today and Amsterdam tomorrow, sixty minutes through the skies
Fly with me to see the setting summer sun and stay with me to see it rise
Then say to those who say "to live this way is mad", then mad we'd rather be than wise
Live, just live for life

If you let me I will lead you
Through the myst'ry and wonder
Of a world you've never known before
Share the splendors to be shared
Magic places to explore
There the dangers to be dared
Life is all of this and more
This and more

Yesterday's a mem'ry gone for good forever while tomorrow is a guess
What is real is what is here and now, the here and now is all that we possess
So take my hand and we will taste the moment if for just the moment's happiness
Live, just live for life

Live, just live for life
Live, just live for life
Live, just live for life

Goodnight

From Letty with love

By "vets" you meant "vets that are opposed to the Iraq War," didn't you. Some are referring to it as Bush's Gettysburg Address. It was a great speech, but I can see why you leftist anti-war types didn't care for it.

Here's a LINK to the speech, for anyone who wants to see for themselves.

Are you sure you want to talk politics on Letty's radio station?

You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says
"It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?"
And somebody else says, "Where what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible"
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You've been with the professors
And they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word "NOW"
And you say, "For what reason?"
And he says, "How?"
And you say, "What does this mean?"
And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?



Copyright © 1965; renewed 1993 Special Rider Music

edgar

Goodnight, sweet Letty, sweet dreams.

Billy Joel
River of Dreams
In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep
From the mountains of faith
To a river so deep.
I must be looking for something,
Something sacred I lost,
But the river is wide
And it's too hard to cross.

And even though I know the river is wide,
I walk down every evening and I stand on the shore
And try to cross to the opposite side
So I can finally find out what I've been looking for.

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep
Through the valley of fear
To a river so deep.
And I've been searching for something
Taken out of my soul,
Something I would never lose,
Something somebody stole.

I don't know why I go walking at night,
But now I'm tired and I don't want to walk anymore.
I hope it doesn't take the rest of my life
Until I find what it is that I've been looking for.

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep
Through the jungle of doubt
To a river so deep.
I know I'm searching for something,
Something so undefined,
That it can only be seen
By the eyes of the blind,
In the middle of the night.

I'm not sure about a life after this.
God knows I've never been a spiritual man.
Baptized by the fire, I wade into the river
That runs to the promised land.

In the middle of the night,
I go walking in my sleep
Though the desert of truth
To the river so deep.
We all end in the ocean,
We all start in the streams,
We're all carried along
By the river of dreams,
In the middle of the night.

Edgar, that's not the tune from the guy in the "Underwear Thread", is it?

Good night to yall. My store is across the street from a bank (closed today) and a post office (also closed today). We saw numerous people tug at the doors and go away miffed and mystified, I reckon, as to why they weren't open.
I told this story on another thread earlier today. Sorry for the repetition if you have seen it before. But, to me, it was a very sweet gesture.
One of my employees was born and raised in mainland China. She came to the US for college. She is fluent in English but sometimes has trouble with American slang and idioms.
Johnboy (or John in Virginia according to Letty) managed to put Vietnam in a box, seal it tightly, and put it in the attic with all of the other stuff. I was lucky, I guess, to be able to do that.
Anyway, this young lady was walking to work this morning and passed by a VFW table where they were giving away paper poppies in exchange for a donation.
She came in, handed it to me and said "Happy Veteran's Day, John."

RJB, that was truly a kind, thoughtful gesture. Ironic, isn't it, that most people weren't aware of the meaning of this day, but the young lady from China acknowledged the sacrifice that so many veterans have made.

Good morning, WA2K listeners and contributors. It's still dark here in my studio, but as I look at the monitor, I see a replay of last evening.

Tico, I did a quick read of Bush's speech, and found it to be typical of any president who wants to justify the stance which has been taken in defense of war. Thanks, however, for affording us the opportunity to look at the National Review article.

I always smile at edgar's stoic songs, as they tend to say quite a bit. Often I have no idea who sang or wrote them, but the lyrics are meaningful.

Thank you, Diane, for the Bill Joel song. I have always liked him, and I am certain most of our audience does as well.

Always nice to see John of Virginia telling us his little anecdotes and vignettes. Thanks, buddy.

Let's see, folks. We now have Germany, England, India, France (sometimes the Netherlands) and Canada.

Back later, folks, with a morning song accompanied by a cup of coffee and a miniature cream puff. YUM!