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W ell how do you d o young W illie M cBride,
Do you m ind if I s it here down b y your grave side,
And rest for a w hile in the w arm summer s un,
I've been w alking all d ay and I 'm nearly d one.
I see by your g ravestone you were o nly 1 9,
When you j oined the great f allen in 1 916,
Well I hope you died q uick and I h ope you died clean,
Or W illie McB ride was it s low and o bscene.
D id they b eat the drum s lowly,
Did they pl ay the fife lo wly,
Did they s ound the dead m arch, as they l owered you d own,
Did the b and play the last post and ch orus ,
Did the p ipes play the F lowers of the F orest .
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In s ome loyal heart is your memory ensh rined,
And though you died back in 191 6,
To that loyal heart you're forever 19.
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Fo rever enshrined behind some old glass pane,
In a n old photog raph all torn t attered and stained,
And f aded to y ellow in a b rown leather frame.
D id they b eat the drum s lowly,
Did they pl ay the fife lo wly,
Did they s ound the dead m arch, as they l owered you d own,
Did the b and play the last post and ch orus ,
Did the p ipes play the F lowers of the F orest .
The sun's shining down on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance,
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still "No Man's Land",
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand,
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
And a whole ge neration that were butchered and damned.
D id they b eat the drum s lowly,
Did they pl ay the fife lo wly,
Did they s ound the dead m arch, as they l owered you d own,
Did the b and play the last post and ch orus ,
Did the p ipes play the F lowers of the F orest .
And I can't help but wonder, oh Willie M cBride
Do all those who lie here know why they die,
Did you re ally beli eve them when they to ld you the cause
Did they re ally bel ieve that this w ar would end w ars.
Well, the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain,
Oh W illie McB ride it all h appened again,
And a gain, an d again, an d again, an d again