Eight men in arms, Eight friends in death
All, for the love of freedom, bled.
Hands reached to touch each passing hearse
Your names on every lip and breath.
The women, and the men, wept too
There was such pain in losing you.
Heroic -in its truest sense
Your blood was spilled that we might be
United, as a people, free…
It seemed, the Nation’s heart was there
We wept for those whom we had lost
Our sons who’d paid that ultimate cost.
Eight men in arms, eight friends in death
All, for the love of freedom, bled…