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 He's  he is dead
 His remains upon  hearse ahead
 As silently we wander though the 
 He's free
 
 This is the 
 Your journey's  night descends
 Below... Into  abyss
 Farewell, my friend, you will be 
 
 Lower the flags
 A  man has passed
 He has reached  last of frontiers
 Lower the flags
 Down to half-mast
  again the world has taken a turn for the worse
 
 He's done, he  dead
 Six feet of  upon his head
 Now  your wreaths
 Upon the one  lies beneath
 
 Although you're gone
 In memories you shall  on
  In peace now rest
 The weight of the world is off your 
 
 Lower the flags
 A  man has passed
 He has  the last of frontiers
 Lower the flags
 Down to half-mast
 For again the world  taken a turn for the worse
 
 That morning  I'll always remember
  these August nights: cold as December.