All becomes silent,

 as the graveyard is entered.

 The dead make no sound,

  so why should the living?

In the shadow of the tree he lays.

People I've never known,

   that bring tears to another's eyes;

     an eleven day old baby.

And on the air, bagpipes play,

  a sad and lonesome ode to all those passed,

    comfort to the living.

21 Guns, Taps,

   The Final Salute