THE SILVER BUGLE

HE CAME FROM OUT OF NOWHERE, IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT
WITH A SILVER BUGLE IN HIS HAND HE STEPPED INTO THE LIGHT
HE STOOD FOR A MOMENT IN SILENCE, THEN IN A VOICE SO DEEP AND CALM
HE SAID "IVE COME TO PLAY FOR MY MATES WHO DIED IN VIETNAM"

SOME HEADS WERE BOWED AND WAITING AS THE BUGLER TOLD HIS TALE
BUT WHAT THEY HEARD WERE THE EERIE STRAINS OF A 'WHITER SHADE OF PALE'
HE PLAYED THE SONGS FROM DAYS GONE BY AND THE BUGLE FOUND ITS HOME
AMONG THE FIELDS OF SORROW WHERE HIS MATES HAD FLOWN

THE SINGLE NOTES UPON THE AIR WERE LIKE AN EPITAPH
AS HE TOOK US ALL THE WAY WITH HIM, BACK INTO THE PAST
HE BLEW THAT BUGLE LIKE A HORN AND THE SOUND WAS PURE AND CLEAN
AS HE PLAYED THE HAUNTING MELODY  'I'LL SEE YOU IN MY DREAMS'

WE COULD HEAR THE GHOSTLY VOICES CALLING IN THE NIGHT
AND SEE THE FLAMES AROUND THEM, IN THE JUNGLE BURNING BRIGHT
BUT MOST OF ALL WE FELT THE PAIN OF THE MAN LEFT TO REMIND
THE WORLD THAT BACK IN VIETNAM HIS MATES WERE LEFT BEHIND

AS THE BUGLER CALLED FOR HIS LAST AND FINAL NOTE
WE COULD HEAR THE ECHO OF A GHOST
AS ANOTHER BUGLE PLAYED 'THE LAST POST'