sanantoniosooner
5/28/2011, 09:37 PM
I just want to say that I miss LoyalFan/John Wood.
He was one of the nicest a-holes I've ever met.
He helped me get back into my lost love of fishing.
He provided my youngest son with an exceptional trumpet to play and he's taken to it quite well.
He challenged my ability to care for people that don't make it easy.
I only regret that I wasn't able to remain a friend in his last days.
I was thankful that OU was ranked #1 when he passed, even if we didn't stay there.
He often referred to this poem.
The Cavalrymen's Poem
Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.
He was one of the nicest a-holes I've ever met.
He helped me get back into my lost love of fishing.
He provided my youngest son with an exceptional trumpet to play and he's taken to it quite well.
He challenged my ability to care for people that don't make it easy.
I only regret that I wasn't able to remain a friend in his last days.
I was thankful that OU was ranked #1 when he passed, even if we didn't stay there.
He often referred to this poem.
The Cavalrymen's Poem
Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.
Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.
Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.
And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.