A beautiful field of blood red poppies
Many thousands of young, bright blooms
But who can look and not remember
Endless names all carved on tombs

In every remote corner of the world
Where some mother’s son still lies
Unmarked, unknown and far from home
Beneath strange and foreign skies

The oceans and the seas all hold
So many dead beneath the waves
Through many battles and many wars
They have no land marked graves

So many young have gone and fought
You may question the reasons why
But every time you see a poppy
Spare a thought as you pass by

Who knows what our lives may have been
If they had never made a stand
Would we even be here now
Enjoying freedom in our land?

So many lives! So huge a price!
Our young are still willing to pay
So don’t remember just on the 11th
Say “Thank you,” every day