I stand the silent vigil
     with my brothers left and right.
A perfect dress-right-dress
     keeps our columns long and tight.

We guard this sacred land
     Our valor etched in stone.
One mothers sacrifice is made,
     so that others may grow old.

I stand the silent vigil
    with my brothers left and right.
In the company of the honored,
    all are equal and upright.

Our numbers speak in volumes,
   though our names do fade with time.
Our fight is finally over,
   for our countries picket line.

I stand that silent vigil,
   with my brothers left and right.
Our banners handed forwards,
   the pennants marked in rhyme.

We stand at grave attention
   as new brothers fall in line;
And take up silent vigil,
  with their brothers left and right.

We stand that silent vigil
   with all brothers on the line.
Some fulfill their duties early,
   they are called before their time.

Those brothers that they've left
   cherish memories tinged with guilt.
They are called to share our stories,
   Even if it's once a year.