Quietly! Quietly! Whisper my Name.So many long years ago I died, under Norman apple trees.But now my Spirit wanders, as a warm and gentle breeze.Hush! Quietly, Whisper my name, in that long forgotten place.Then feel the warmth of my Spirit, caress lightly on your face.For now, I am the jewelled Summer Lark that soars on high.Bright in heavens concert hall, my song will fill the sky.I am the tumbling cloud’s that rise, to touch the face of Joy.No longer held by earthly bonds, a once young and vital boy.In an instant life was swept away, in a brutal savage war.Look not for me in Normandy, for I am there no more.I am the peace in woodland glades, in veiled cascades of green.Feel me close, in your times of joy, sensed, but never seen.Whisper my name, hear my voice, in cascading woodland spring,Or England’s flowered primrose banks, wherein the bluebells ring.Don’t mourn for me, quietly call my name, I’ll visit in your dreams.And, fill your mind with the beauty, of heavens joyous scenes.Hush! Hush!Just whisper,Quietly call my name.Whisper quietly.For all the young men that never came home.From the fields of Normandy,I bring many memories.Beneath them, I leave many friends.Brian GuyMonty’s Ironsides.

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