On the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month
We honored those who had fought the war that ended wars.
In Black and Orange uniforms our high school marching band
Marched with sure precision down the main street of our town.

Majorettes flung their gold batons high above.
They stepped out proudly way in front 
Of front line clarinets and saxophones
While drummers kept the beat.

Legionaries who had fought held up the rear
And struggled to keep up
As trumpets blared and cymbals clashed and tubas growled.

Small crowds cheered and waved us on,
Saluted the flags that passed above,
Pointed to the older heroes in the big red truck
While children ran beside us and looked up.

Our parade marched forward to the burial ground;
Crowds began to thin and then the cheering stopped.

A single trumpet sounded out with taps — for our parade was over.