joe pug's "bury me far from my uniform"

before i get out of here, this just popped up in the ol inbox. this being joe pug’s “bury me far from my uniform” which he is giving away in honour of memorial day. below you’ll find joe performing said song for my old kentucky blog’s laudro matinee. here’s what joe had to say about the song…

“Often songs are difficult to write but, once written, easy to release,” explains Pug. “That was certainly not the case with ‘Bury Me Far (From My Uniform).’ The song nearly wrote itself and yet I released it with great reluctance. There is a certain reverence that any decent person affords soldiers and their sacrifices. I was, and remain still, troubled that this song might violate that decency. Having never served myself I’m not always sure whether it is inspiring or insulting. I’ve certainly gotten my fair share of both reactions. In the end, the song stands on its own, and the distinction is yours to make.”

bury me far from my uniform

Bury Me Far From My Uniform” by Joe Pug

I was fallen dead in battle,
must have been Tuesday,
I don’t know the date.
I gave everything everyone asked for,
But I say where I’ll be laid.
The many dead of my comrades,
All look the same in this place.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face.

Do not bother with Congress,
With the rich,
Or with the rest.
I fought their battles in this world,
But I will not fight for them in the next.
Do not find me justice,
Just find me a grave.
And then bury me far from my uniform,
So that God might remember my face.

Oh my mother,
You’ll weep and you’ll crumble,
Take me out of your dreams that I’m in.
I can’t take another what’s not,
I’m sick to hear what could have been.
I’ll not return to your table,
So don’t save me a place.
Just bury me far from my uniform,
So God might remember my face

I’m not a cause, not a Christ, not a ransom.
I’m not a reason, I’m not a debate.
And I swear that I’m no one’s example.
I’m not a number,
I’m not a crusade.

War is older than mankind,
But it’s younger than grace.
Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
From the iron cross medals I would have worn.
From the statues that sisters and widows mourn.
From the newspaper clippings and microform,
From Geneva, the Hague and Nuremberg
From the sex of this world that I’ll no longer taste.

Won’t you bury me far from my uniform?
So God might remember my face.
I know God will remember my face.
Merciful God, please remember my face.