They're your uncles or your brothers; <br />They're the ones who fought and bled. <br />Theirs are the names upon this wall, <br />the legion of our dead. <br />They didn't run to Canada <br />when they heard their country call. <br />They ran toward the sound of guns; <br />All through the Sixties did they fall. <br />So spare a moment at the wall, <br />Peruse their names incused. <br />Long Summers past, they were like us, <br />with so much more to lose.<br /><br />John F. McCullagh<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-names-on-the-wall/
