Dawn was creeping in the East ,
Dewdrops mingled with the mist;
When he left the place he missed
To join the list.
He was senior with a ball,
Five feet and ten inches tall
Saw twenty-one summers all ,
Before the call.
With a knapsack on his back,
And some foodstuff in his pack,
Sisters kissed him with a smack ,
And wished "Good luck"
As he stood on the pier,
Every loved one shed a tear
But he whispered "Do not fear,
For God will care".
There they fought ,in Bataan,
Till they starved and lost their guns ;
Foes had bombs and better arms,
While they had none.
"Save my soul, save my soul,
O, Lord, please save my soul",
Was his silent endless call,
Before their fall.
Battles they, bravely fought,
But they lost and they were caught,
Facing utter horror of
The March of Death.
It was five days on the road,
Without rest, a drink, or food;
One hundred twenty-five kilometers
On foot.
Staggering, through clouds of dust,
Blood and tears blended with sweat,
Sufferings he grimly met
In savages.
To the prisoner of war,
Freedom was a distant star
With wounded limbs and face marred,
Hope wandered far.
Sick in spirit and in flesh,
He succumbed to hideous death
Paying freedom's highest price
With his own life.
So he was gone, he was gone!
He was gone, like everyone
He was gone to great beyond
Away from home.
Back his home ,his mother grieved,
With the letter she received
But till she died she believed
Her son still lived.
Neither a corpse on the ground ,
Nor his grave they have found ;
Nothing , save a cross is there,
Bearing his name.
Today, his heroism rests,
In a lonely stonework, etched;
On the crest of Mt. Samat ,
In Bataan...!
Memories, memories,
Only petty memories ,
Are all we have deep in our hearts
About this man.
( Sing this ballad to the tune of _"500 Miles Away from Home")
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