Het volgende anonieme gedicht vond ik toen ik in het onlangs verschenen en erg interessante boek 'Menin Gate North: In Memory and in Mourning' (Pen & Sword) van Paul Chapman aan het bladeren was.

'What are you guarding, Man-at-Arms ? / Why do you watch and wait ?" / "I guard the graves", said the Man-at-Arms / "I guard the graves by Flanders Farms / Where the dead will rise at my call tot arms / And march to the Menin Gate" /

"When do they march then, Man-at-Arms ? Cold is the hour and late "/ "They march tonight', said the Man-at-Arms / "With the moon on the Menin Gate' / They march when the midnight bids them to go / With their rifles slung and their pipes aglow / Along the roads - the roads they know / The roads to the Menin Gate. /

"What are the singing, Man-at-Arms ? / As they march tot the Mening Gate ?" / " The marching songs", said the Man-at-Arms / "That let them laugh at Fate, / No more will the night be cold for them / For the last tattoo has rolled for them / And their souls will sing as old, for them / As they marcht to the Menin Gate."