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Sir Edward Elgar Lyrics

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This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Shakespeare's "King Richard II" Act 2 Scene 1

I am not a number

When the soul leaves the body
When all earthly chores are done
I will soar up to the heavens and fly on past the sun.
I will have no care for this life,
a new adventure lies ahead
I will stand before my maker
And they will say you are dead.
In this life so full of care I will no longer be afraid
For I have gone to join the millions in a place beyond the grave.
The earth below will keep turning and life will come and go,
But once I lived like you do with happiness and woe.
But when I leave don't weep, don't see it as an end
For we journey ever onwards and one day we'll meet again.

HistoryFan 88

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there’s some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England’s, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Nick M

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams before my helpless sight
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin,
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Bitter[1] as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,–
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

All comments from YouTube:


If this isn’t played at my funeral I won’t be going

Laughterhouse 5

I don’t think you have a choice

James Watts

Agreed. Strict instructions to my son and daughter to have this played at mine.Heart achingly beautiful

Adrian Heath

Had this played at dad's funeral in 2016, the organist butchered it, absolutely horrible. 😢

Gary Reid

That’s the best response I’ve ever read ..brilliant

Nancy Demoss

I won't have a funeral but I'd still like it to be played by somebody who's thinking of me. 😢

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john watson

My prem daughter at 1 hour old. This is for her. Gone but never forgottern . 19/9/91. Martha always in my heart

mike rathbone

A year and a day before I was born. RIP.


No, it's not for her. It's for you my man, stay strong.

Jon H

God bless you both 🙏🏼

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