W ell how do you do young Willi e McBride,
Do you m ind if I sit here down by your gra veside,
And rest for a w hile neath the warm summer sun,
I've been w orking all day and I'm nearl y done.
I see by your gravestone you were onl y 19,
When you j oined the great fallen in 191 6,
I h ope you died well and I hope you died clean,
Or young W illie Mc Bride was it slow an d obscene.
[Refrain :]
D id they beat the drum slowly, did the y play the fi fe lowly,
Did they s ound the dead march, as they lowered yo u down,
Did the b and play the last post and chor us,
Did the p ipes play the Flowers of the Fore st.
Did you leave ere a wife or a sweetheart behind,
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined,
Although you died back in 1916,
In that faithful heart are you forever 19.
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Enclosed in forever behind a glass frame,
In an old photograph all torn battered and stained,
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.
Did they beat the drum slowly ...
The sun now it shines on the green fields of France,
There's a warm summer breeze that makes the red poppies dance,
And look how the sun shines from under the trees,
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still "No Man's Land",
The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand,
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man,
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned.
Did they beat the drum slowly ...
Ah, young Willie McBride I can't help wonder why,
Do all those who lie here know why did they die,
And did they believe when they answered the call,
Did they really believe that this war would end wars.
Well, the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain,
The killing and dieing were all done in vain,
For young Willie McBride it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.
