Hearts Grow Stale

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KW. Adamson

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It's an old arm and an old hand
It's an old arm and an old hand
Pointing to names of forgotten men
Here in the Ypres Salient

Every night at eight p.m
People, they gather 'round to stand
To remember all the boys
Never found

It's a young boy with eyes who watch
Ready to see and to be taught
Counting the names that line the walls
Quickly he learns they're much too tall

Papa, how many soldiers fell?
I tried to count, but I can't tell.
Fifty-five thousand of our boys
Never found

Hearts grow stale
And they get in the way
Of moving on
To better days
When our hearts become frail
Can't feel love in our veins
We remember the boys
With no known grave

Soldiers have come to form a band
Ever since nineteen twenty-seven
It is for honor that they stand
For those who came to lend a hand

O The Last Post on bugles they play
There on the road under Menin Gate
To remember all the boys
Never found

They're with us now
Here in this place
Are you feeling the men
Of Menin Gate?
O their hearts became pale
No more blood in their veins
But they lived while they could
And still remain

Hearts grow stale
And they get in the way
Of moving on
To better days
If your heart becomes frail
Can't feel love in your veins
Just remember the boys
With no known grave
And remember the men

Who were never found
They were never found
In this strange, strange house
Who is ever found?

Hearts grow stale
And they get in the way
Of moving on
To better days
If your heart becomes frail
Can't feel love in your veins
Just remember the boys
With no known grave
And remember the joy
Of innocent days
Yeah remember the men

Who were never found

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