This was penned earlier this year... it seems appropriate.

We gather here together, friends both old and new,
To share our songs and laughter, tell a stirring tale or two.
But time is rolling onwards, and the toll it takes is dear;
And every year there's one less voice, who will it be next year?

When first we met in company, when none the other knew,
We shared our songs and laughter, and friendships bloomed and grew.
In harmony and unison, our voices blended clear;
But every year there's one less voice, who will it be next year?

The songs we sang were old ones, songs of peace and war,
Of sailing ships and lovers' arms, the miners' life and more.
But all of them in common, were pleasing to the ear;
But every year there's one less voice, who will it be next year?

So raise your voices up boys, in memory of those now gone.
Give thanks for those who gather to carry on the song,
And keep it ringing out now, keep singing through the tears,
So every year there's one more voice, who will it be next year?

Tune: The Rose of York (My name it is McBrennan)
Sat 24 Aug 2002, for Fliss, Rod, Dave, Wally, Tony and all the others.
They aren't here but they know who they are.