Celtic Woman Send Me A Song Lyrics
Take the wave now and know that you're free
Turn your back the land, face the sea
Face the wind now, so wild and so strong
When you think of me, wave to me and send me song
Don't look back when you reach the new shore
Don't forget what you're leaving me for
Don't forget when you're missing me so
Love must never hold, never hold tight, but let go
Oh, the nights will be long when I'm not in your arms
But I'll be in this song that you sing to me
Across the sea, somehow, someday
You will be far away, so far from me
And maybe someday I will follow you in all you do
'Til then, send me a song
When the sun sets the water on fire
When the wind swells the sails of your hire
Let the call of the bird on the wind
Calm your sadness and lonliness
And then start to sing to me
I will sing to you
If you promise to send me a song
I walk by the shore and I hear
Hear your song come so faint and so clear
And I catch it, a breath on the wind
And I smile and I sing you a song
I will send you a song
I will sing you a song
I will sing to you
If you promise to send me a song
For all the Brothers in a foreign land...we await your return.
Full Version: For Our Troops at Christmas
Common Ground Common Sense > Issues that Affect Our Lives > U.S. Military Issues > Active Military Issues
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Rest easy, sleep well my brothers.
Know the line has held, your job is done.
Rest easy, sleep well.
Others have taken up where you fell, the line has held.
Peace, peace and farewell...
...these wreaths - some 5,000 - are donated by the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine...since 1992...Harrington is in one of the poorest parts of the state. There are those who remember you. You are our best. Merry Christmas.
(edit add - this is Arlington National Cemetary - hallowed ground)
Rest easy, sleep well my brothers.
Know the line has held, your job is done.
Rest easy, sleep well.
Others have taken up where you fell, the line has held.
Peace, peace and farewell...
...these wreaths - some 5,000 - are donated by the Worcester Wreath Co. of Harrington, Maine...since 1992...Harrington is in one of the poorest parts of the state. There are those who remember you. You are our best. Merry Christmas.
(edit add - this is Arlington National Cemetary - hallowed ground)
I see where it's gonna be 36 degrees in Baghdad today...
it's 60 and raining in South Louisiana...for all those guys
from Tigerland...things are growing and await y'all.
In a coupla weeks we will play for the NCAA National Football Championship.
Y'all are playin' for your life and the neo-con mission.
Dispite the Cause...y'all fight for us...carry our heritage...nothin' but love for y'all.
And, I hope you are warm and wet soon...your people miss ya. Merry Christmas
young brothers. Carry on.
it's 60 and raining in South Louisiana...for all those guys
from Tigerland...things are growing and await y'all.
In a coupla weeks we will play for the NCAA National Football Championship.
Y'all are playin' for your life and the neo-con mission.
Dispite the Cause...y'all fight for us...carry our heritage...nothin' but love for y'all.
And, I hope you are warm and wet soon...your people miss ya. Merry Christmas
young brothers. Carry on.
I remember the final days (or at least early 1971) in Vietnam.
No one wanted to be the last to die before Nixon/Kissinger played out.
But, like y'all we played it out. Presidents and Secretaries of State don't
saddle-up, don't walk the walk...grunts do...that's what makes y'all special.
Know it or not...there are generations of vets that respect y'all.
I doubt many of y'all read this...but for the one or two that do...
you are heart and soul, ladies and gentlemen...heart and soul.
American soldiers. May I say that again - American soldiers. Hoo-Ha.
...a piece of pewter...that makes you brothers (and sisters)...gun powder blue.
No one wanted to be the last to die before Nixon/Kissinger played out.
But, like y'all we played it out. Presidents and Secretaries of State don't
saddle-up, don't walk the walk...grunts do...that's what makes y'all special.
Know it or not...there are generations of vets that respect y'all.
I doubt many of y'all read this...but for the one or two that do...
you are heart and soul, ladies and gentlemen...heart and soul.
American soldiers. May I say that again - American soldiers. Hoo-Ha.
...a piece of pewter...that makes you brothers (and sisters)...gun powder blue.
We had several songs in the day...one that spoke to our country at the time:
She's Not There - Zombies
Well no one told me about her the way she lied
Well no one told me about her how many people cried
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there
Well no one told me about her, what could I do
Well no one told me about her, though they all knew
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
--------------------------------
She may not be there for y'all, but we are...vets are.
Wow! I don't have any idea why the photo of the graves in Arlington with wreaths turned into a green yuk-face in a prior post...must be government censorship. Goes to show...
She's Not There - Zombies
Well no one told me about her the way she lied
Well no one told me about her how many people cried
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool
Her eyes were clear and bright
But she's not there
Well no one told me about her, what could I do
Well no one told me about her, though they all knew
But it's too late to say you're sorry
How would I know, why should I care
Please don't bother tryin' to find her
She's not there
--------------------------------
She may not be there for y'all, but we are...vets are.
Wow! I don't have any idea why the photo of the graves in Arlington with wreaths turned into a green yuk-face in a prior post...must be government censorship. Goes to show...
try this one...
I remember Christmas Eve 1970 above all others...
There were three guys sitting on top of a First Division Bunker,
Fire Base West, over looking the Hiep Duc Valley, Central Highlands,
Republic of Vietnam.
One of the guys played guitar and we sang Christmas Carols under
the stars. I wondered if one of the stars we saw were the one the
Three Kings and The Shepherds saw on their way to the stable,
on the way to a Child in swaddling clothes. We worshiped with the
songs...I silently thanked God for sending Jesus to show the way to live.
I wept with joy...in that place, under those circumstances.
We were not Three Kings, or Three Wise Men, and we had no gifts.
We were combat vets taking time to think of The Prince of Peace.
There are those who can not understand it...but there are those who
understand it exceptionally well...and for all you guys. Merry Christmas.
There were three guys sitting on top of a First Division Bunker,
Fire Base West, over looking the Hiep Duc Valley, Central Highlands,
Republic of Vietnam.
One of the guys played guitar and we sang Christmas Carols under
the stars. I wondered if one of the stars we saw were the one the
Three Kings and The Shepherds saw on their way to the stable,
on the way to a Child in swaddling clothes. We worshiped with the
songs...I silently thanked God for sending Jesus to show the way to live.
I wept with joy...in that place, under those circumstances.
We were not Three Kings, or Three Wise Men, and we had no gifts.
We were combat vets taking time to think of The Prince of Peace.
There are those who can not understand it...but there are those who
understand it exceptionally well...and for all you guys. Merry Christmas.
Christmas Eve... again I go back to 1970...
In my prayers that night I had two major communications:
1) My understanding of why I had been spared, while brothers in the platoon
had been blown up or shot...was there was another mission in the future.
2) A prayer that I be spared from accidentially (or in a rage) killing non-combatants,
especially women and children. I feared for my soul (not my body) on Christmas.
I have reinterated those prayers every year since. First with thanks, second with
an admission of recognition - that a mission remains.
Funny what staring into the face of death does. How crystaline the vision becomes.
Tonight I'm doing prep-cook work...onions and celery chopping...sausage and chicken
breast cooking - for additives to the dressing, hourdourves and stock. My wife is baking the
corn bread in a cast iron skillet for the dressing (I'll add minced chicken, ground meat - browned and drained - Italian sausage, and the onions and celery - rendered in butter. Hey I'm a Louisianian and WE cook!). I also remember something else - never knife fight with a prep-cook - they're practice makes them expert. I think that's how Jim Bowie became expert.
The turkey will provide additional stock, and boiled eggs and raw eggs stirred in will keep
the moisture for the corn bread dressing...just right. Being in the field made me appreciate food (and drink)...when you can do it right you are at peace...at home...with family.
My Christmas prayer this year is that y'all can be here next year...and know you were spared for another mission...in America...in your family...for your Savior. Peace to Babylon tonight. You are family...brothers and sisters...and I think of you this Christmas Eve.
In my prayers that night I had two major communications:
1) My understanding of why I had been spared, while brothers in the platoon
had been blown up or shot...was there was another mission in the future.
2) A prayer that I be spared from accidentially (or in a rage) killing non-combatants,
especially women and children. I feared for my soul (not my body) on Christmas.
I have reinterated those prayers every year since. First with thanks, second with
an admission of recognition - that a mission remains.
Funny what staring into the face of death does. How crystaline the vision becomes.
Tonight I'm doing prep-cook work...onions and celery chopping...sausage and chicken
breast cooking - for additives to the dressing, hourdourves and stock. My wife is baking the
corn bread in a cast iron skillet for the dressing (I'll add minced chicken, ground meat - browned and drained - Italian sausage, and the onions and celery - rendered in butter. Hey I'm a Louisianian and WE cook!). I also remember something else - never knife fight with a prep-cook - they're practice makes them expert. I think that's how Jim Bowie became expert.
The turkey will provide additional stock, and boiled eggs and raw eggs stirred in will keep
the moisture for the corn bread dressing...just right. Being in the field made me appreciate food (and drink)...when you can do it right you are at peace...at home...with family.
My Christmas prayer this year is that y'all can be here next year...and know you were spared for another mission...in America...in your family...for your Savior. Peace to Babylon tonight. You are family...brothers and sisters...and I think of you this Christmas Eve.
When it comes down to it...when a brother is down...we turn home...
we may not be right...but if we are righteous...that's enough...for consideration.
we may not be right...but if we are righteous...that's enough...for consideration.
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