Fading light. Dims the sight. And a star. Gems the sky. Gleaming bright. From afar. Drawing nigh. Falls the night.

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Geoffrey Scott
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1 Stille Nacht Silent night, holy night!all is calm, all is bright! Round yon Virgin Mother and Child! Holy Infant so tender and mild! Sleep in heavenly peace!. Sleep in heavenly peace! Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!!Alles schläft; einsam wacht!nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.!Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar,! : Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! : (Phonetic, to be read as English) Shteal_lay Nahcht! Hi_lee_gay Nahcht!!Ah_lays shlayft; ine_sahm wahcht!noor dahs trou_tay hi_lee_gay Paar.!Hole_dare Knahb' eem low_kig_ten Haar,! : Shlah_fay in him_lish_air Roo! : Ô nuit de paix, Sainte nuit Dans le ciel L'astre luit Dans les champs tout repose en paix Mais soudain dans l'air pur et frais Le brillant coeur des anges Aux bergers apparaît Last Post or Taps Music: probably Daniel Butterfield. Lyrics: Horace Lorenzo Trim Day is done. Gone the sun. From the sea From the hills. From the sky. All is well. Safely rest. God is nigh. Fading light. Dims the sight. And a star. Gems the sky. Gleaming bright. From afar. Drawing nigh. Falls the night. Thanks and praise. For our days. Neath the sun Neath the stars. Neath the sky As we go. This we know. God is nigh

2 "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" is a British music hall song written by Jack Judge. It was allegedly written for a 5 shilling bet in Stalybridge on 30 January Up to mighty London Came an Irishman one day. As the streets are paved with gold Sure, everyone was gay, Singing songs of Piccadilly, Strand and Leicester Square, Till Paddy got excited, Then he shouted to them there: It's a long way to Tipperary, It's a long way to go. It's a long way to Tipperary To the sweetest girl I know! Goodbye, Piccadilly, Farewell, Leicester Square! It's a long long way to Tipperary, But my heart's right there. (repeat) Paddy wrote a letter To his Irish Molly-O, Saying, "Should you not receive it, Write and let me know!" "If I make mistakes in spelling, Molly, dear," said he, "Remember, it's the pen that's bad, Don't lay the blame on me! Molly wrote a neat reply To Irish Paddy-O, Saying "Mike Maloney Wants to marry me, and so Leave the Strand and Piccadilly Or you'll be to blame, For love has fairly drove me silly: Hoping you're the same!"

3 Smile, Smile, Smile" is the full name of a World War I marching song, published in 1915 in London. It was written by Welsh songwriters, George Henry Powell under the pseudonym of "George Asaf", and set to music by his brother Felix Powell. [1] A play presented by the National Theatre recounts how these music hall stars rescued the song from their rejects pile and re-scored it to win a wartime competition for a marching song. [2] It became very popular, boosting British morale despite the horrors of that war. Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, And smile, smile, smile, While you've a lucifer to light your fag, Smile, boys, that's the style. What's the use of worrying? It never was worth while, so Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag, And smile, smile, smile. Keep the Home-Fires Burning ('Till the Boys Come Home) is a British patriotic First World War song composed in 1914 by Ivor Novello with words by Lena Gilbert Ford (whose middle name was sometimes printed as "Guilbert"). They were summoned from the hillside, They were called in from the glen, And the country found them ready At the stirring call for men. Let no tears add to their hardships As the soldiers pass along, And although your heart is breaking, Make it sing this cheery song: Keep the Home Fires Burning, While your hearts are yearning. Though your lads are far away They dream of home. There's a silver lining Through the dark clouds shining, Turn the dark cloud inside out Till the boys come home. Overseas there came a pleading, "Help a nation in distress." And we gave our glorious laddies - Honour bade us do no less, For no gallant son of Freedom To a tyrant's yoke should bend, And a noble heart must answer To the sacred call of "Friend." Keep the Home Fires Burning, While your hearts are yearning. Though your lads are far away They dream of home. There's a silver lining Through the dark clouds shining, Turn the dark cloud inside out 'Til the boys come home. [2

4 "No Man's Land" (also known as "The Green Fields of France" or "Willie McBride") is a song written in 1976 by Scottish-born folk singer-songwriter Eric Bogle, reflecting on the grave of a young man who died in World War I. In 2009 Eric told an audience in Weymouth that he'd read about a girl who had been presented with a copy of the song by then prime minister Tony Blair, who called it "his favourite anti-war poem". According to Eric, the framed copy of the poem was credited to him, but stated that he had been killed in World War I. [1] Well, how'd you do, Private William Mcbride? Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside? I'll rest here awhile in the warm summer sun, I've been walking all day, Lord, and I'm nearly done. And I see by your gravestone you were only 19 When you joined the glorious fallen in Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean, Or, Willie Mcbride, was it slow and obscene? : Did they beat the drum slowly, Did they sound the fife lowly, Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down? Did the bugles sound "The Last Post" in chorus? Did the pipes play "The Flowers of the Forest?" And, though you died back in 1916, To that loyal heart are you always 19? Or are you a stranger without even a name, Forever enshrined behind some glass pane, In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained, And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? The sun's shining down on these green fields of France; The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance. The trenches have vanished long under the plow; No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now. But here in this graveyard it's still No Man's Land The countless white crosses in mute witness stand To man's blind indifference to his fellow man. And a whole generation who were butchered and damned. And I can't help but wonder, now Willie Mcbride, Do all those who lie here know why they died? Did you really believe them when they told you 'The Cause? ' Did you really believe that this war would end wars? Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain, For Willie Mcbride, it all happened again, And again, and again, and again, and again. Did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind? In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined

5 Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye. While goin' the road to sweet Athy,, While goin' the road to sweet Athy,, While goin' the road to sweet Athy A stick in me hand and a drop in me eye A doleful damsel I heard cry, Johnny I hardly knew ye. : With your drums and guns and guns and drums,, With your drums and guns and guns and drums,, With your drums and guns and guns and drums The enemy nearly slew ye Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer Johnny I hardly knew ye. Where are the eyes with which you smiled,, Where are the eyes with which you smiled,, Where are the eyes with which you smiled When my poor heart you first beguiled Why did ye leave me and the child Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye. Where are your legs with which you d run,, Where are your legs with which you d run,, Where are your legs with which you d run, When first you went to carry the gun Indeed your dancing days are done Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye. () They re calling out the guns again,, They re calling out the guns again,, They re calling out the guns again, Our daughters and our sons again They re calling out the guns again, Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye. version by Stairheid Gossip on Stirrin It Up ()

6 Good-bye-ee Brother Bertie went away To do his bit the other day With a smile on his lips and his Lieutenant's pips upon his shoulder bright and gay As the train moved out he said, 'Remember me to all the birds.' Then he wagged his paw and went away to war Shouting out these pathetic words: Goodbye-ee, goodbye-ee, Wipe the tear, baby dear, from your eye-ee, Tho' it's hard to part I know, I'll be tickled to death to go. Don't cry-ee, dont sigh-ee, there's a silver lining in the sky-ee, Bonsoir, old thing, cheer-i-o, chin, chin, Nah-poo, toodle-oo, Goodbye-ee. At the hospital at Kew, The convalescents, dressed in blue, Had to hear Lady Lee, who had turned 83, Sing all the old, old songs she knew. Then she made a speech and said, "I look on you boys with pride, And to thank you all I'm going to kiss each one", Then they all grabbed a stick and cried, Stille Nacht Silent night, holy night!all is calm, all is bright! Round yon Virgin Mother and Child! Holy Infant so tender and mild! Sleep in heavenly peace!. Sleep in heavenly peace! Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!!Alles schläft; einsam wacht!nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.!Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar,! : Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh! : (Phonetic, to be read as English) Shteal_lay Nahcht! Hi_lee_gay Nahcht!!Ah_lays shlayft; ine_sahm wahcht!noor dahs trou_tay hi_lee_gay Paar.!Hole_dare Knahb' eem low_kig_ten Haar,! : Shlah_fay in him_lish_air Roo! : Ô nuit de paix, Sainte nuit Dans le ciel L'astre luit Dans les champs tout repose en paix Mais soudain dans l'air pur et frais Le brillant coeur des anges Aux bergers apparaît

7 Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty Jack Dunn, son of a gun, over in France today, Keeps fit doing his bit up to his eyes in clay. Each night after a fight to pass the time along, He's got a little gramophone that plays this song: Cuddling up again we soon should be, WHOA!!! Tiddley iddley ighty, Hurry me home to Blighty, Blighty is the place for me! Bill Spry, started to fly, up in an aeroplane, In France, taking a chance, wish'd he was down again. Poor Bill, feeling so ill, yell'd out to Pilot Brown: "Steady a bit, yer fool! we're turning upside down!" Cuddling up again we soon should be, Jack Lee, having his tea, says to his pal MacFayne, "Look, chum, apple and plum! it's apple and plum again! Same stuff, isn't it rough? fed up with it I am! Oh! for a pot of Aunt Eliza's raspb'ry jam!" Cuddling up again we soon should be, One day Mickey O'Shea stood in a trench somewhere, So brave, having a shave, and trying to part his hair. Mick yells, dodging the shells and lumps of dynamite: "Talk of the Crystal Palace on a Firework night!" Cuddling up again we soon should be,

LEST WE FORGET CONCERT GENTING ARENA, BIRMINGHAM SATURDAY 3 NOVEMBER, 2018

LEST WE FORGET CONCERT GENTING ARENA, BIRMINGHAM SATURDAY 3 NOVEMBER, 2018 START OF THE WAR MEDLEY 1. WE DON T WANT TO LOSE YOU Oh! We don't want to lose you but we think you ought to go For your King