They rattle their paper sabres across
a political floor,
And the people cry out in their anguish
while the drums roll-
The rallying drums of war!
And all the blood red battlefields of Hell!
Resound to the blast of cannon shot
and shell.
And when under a sullen sky lie the
gory fields of war-
Here on these bitter fields of conflict
Tommy Atkins is a hero once more.

But can it ever be right that might
is right, as we succour the dead to
the fields,
For what is this victory-
This sacrifice that for us the fallen yield?
Is it for a peace that would last
only for two or three years,
Or is it a peace that for our young,
War they can no longer have fear.

And when the battle weary soldier
craves for hostilities to cease,
And above the battlefields in an
aurora of light ascends a bird of peace;
When the bloodshed on the field
of battle has finally passed,
And the hand of the foe reaches
out across no man’s land to be
firmly grasped.

When across the weary fields of pain
the Last Post is sounded clear,
And the banner of peace is raised
above the dead we hold so very dear.
When man has reached out across the
great oceans and seas-
To grasp each other’s hand in
everlasting peace,
Only then- and only then-
That will be true victory…