Knee deep in mud, soldiers trudge, poppies all around,
Starbursts soar high in the sky lighting up the ground,
They crouch in their trench, a readymade grave, poppies all around,
Growing between the dead and dying lying face down in the ground.

Another starburst lights the sky casting an eerie glow,
On man and boy lying within the poppies below,
Who is that child lying there who should be home in bed?
At only 14 he became a man and now he’s lying dead.

At last at last the battles won in Flanders field and Somme,
But wait a while about 20 years World War 2’s begun,
Tears of grief feed the land bringing life to the earth,
And poppies grow once again beside the crimson tide of death.

Korea came and Korea went and a thousand lives were lost,
We didn’t really count that war or count the total cost,
It was considered an American war and we didn’t heed their dead,
Only the British soldier and his battle fatigued life instead.

Aquarius dawned and hippies came wearing flowers in their hair,
Make love not war and ban the bomb the peace lovers said,
Too late the Vietnam War is here with body bags stacked high to carry home the dead,
No poppies in these killing fields just bare white skulls instead.

And years roll on and soldiers in Falklands and Iraq did fight,
And now in Afghanistan they defend a plight,
Since time began man has killed and his anger he will vent,
How many more wars are we to suffer before all life is spent?

Heat and dust mixed with blood becomes a dark red deathly mud,
And men still die in the name of God whose very own son gave his blood,
But no poppies here in this desert waste as their life drains in the sand,
Only the crimson tide of death as once again valour takes the stand.