what manner of men..........

i have been searching for words of high praise for the brit airborne lads on sunday........i found someone elses and re-worked them. i think he puts it better than i ever could.

"whats that he wishes so?
my cousin woodlander? no, my fair cousin;
if we are mark'd to die, we are enow
to do our country loss; and if we live,
the fewer men , the greater share of honour.
gods will ! i pray thee, wish not for one man more.
by jove, i am not covetous for gold,
nor care i who doth feed upon my cost;
it yearns me not if men my garments wear;
such outward things dwell not in my desires.
but if it be a sin to covet honour,
i am the most offending soul alive,
no, faith, my coz, wish not a man from england.
gods peace! i would not lose so great an honour
as one man more methinks would share from me
for the best hope i have.O,do not wish for one more!
rather proclaim it panther, through my host,
that he which hath no stomach for this fight,
let him depart; his pasport shall be made,
and crowns for convoy put in his purse;
we would not die in that mans company
that fears his fellowship to die with us.
this day is called augtumn mist.
he that out lives this day and comes home safe,
will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd
and rouse him at the name of augtumn mist.
he that shall live this day, and see old age,
will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
and say"tomorrow is augtumn mist"
then he will strip his sleeve and show his scars,
and say " the hits i took at augtumn mist".
old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
but he'll remember, with advantages,
what feats he did that day.then shall our names,
familier in his mouth as household words-
chommers the commander,yith and ramsey,
chthree and horus,wladek and wraith-
be in there flowing cups rememb'red.
this story shall the good man teach his son;
and augtumn mist day shall ne'er go by,
from this day to the ending of the world,
but we in it shall be remembered-
we few, we happy few,
we band of brothers;
for he today that sheds his blood with me
shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
this day shall gentle his condition;
and gentlemen in england now- a-bed
shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
and hold there manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
that fought with us upon augtumn mist day.

( that grinding sound you can hear is shakespeare spinning in his grave)