"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them."

Well how do you do there, young William McBride.
Do you mind if I take a seat by your graveside?
I'll rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day and now I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean.
Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene?