So swiftly the angel came and took you home,

Your pain and suffering now are gone.

You were our best buddy, wonderful husband and dad.

You were the best friend we ever had.

Your drumming, the rolls, the beat of the sticks,

Will be heard as the band keeps walking the bricks.

"Rolls, quick, march" the major will say,

As your hands hit the drum, and start to play.

You will be there, standing, in the shadow of a limb,

Warming up those sticks, for competition again.

Your family and friends will all be aware,

That there's a special drummer, playing here.

I imagine you're playing the drums, over there

With Grade I pipers and drummers so rare.

Your tunes may be different than any we know.

But you've never needed a score, to be a pro.

Oh, how we thought those times would never end.

And now, as you make your last trip with the band,

To that final resting place where you'll lay,

There's one more thing we would like to say.....

"May the road rise to meet you...

May the wind be always at your back

May the sun shine warm upon your face

The rain fall soft upon your fields

and until we meet again,

May your soul be at God's right hand"