marching through time - cheryl frances-hoad lyrics
they marched through the streets
of these northern towns
and their winding-sheets
and their hospital gowns
are not all we remember of these marching men
because their stories get told again and again
from these northern towns
they marched through the streets
and the terrible sounds
of advances, retreats
are not all we remember of these innocent boys:
stories rebuild just what wartime destroys
and a photograph is a kind of map;
a map of where we’ve been, where we heard
that story lifting up the tentflap
of history, that story that hinged on a word
from a 100 year old woman, a 95 year old man
that turns and returns to where stories began
they marched through the light
in these northern places
to a bomb-blasted night
and the fear on their faces
we should remember as years slowly p-ss;
stories as brittle as gl-ss
stories as brittle as gl-ss…
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