( / Ashland, Kentucky)

Marching

They are marching, marching, marching
They are marching in the band,
As they follow their drum major
With his baton waving in his hand,
They will follow his every movement and command
They will go without thought to whenever he might lead,
In pride they march and play their instruments
Forward on they will go as they proceed.

They are marching, marching, marching
They all are marching off to war,
And when many of them return back home
They won't be marching any more,
They will follow their captain their commander
Wherever he leads, they all must go,
But, now there is no cheers from the bystander
As they march, march, march, row after another row.

They are marching, marching, marching
They are the pallbearer carrying the casket,
They are led not by a captain or a major
They are led by a child with flowers in a basket,
Their footsteps they all have echoed
Unto one and all from the solid earth’s ground,
As they march, march, march, proud and bold
With the playing of taps as the farewell sound.

Randy L. McClave

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