Amongst the fields of death and slaughter,
amongst the roars of guns and mortar,
amongst the cries for gold, god and glory,
amongst the rallies for king and country,
amongst strewn bodies of men in mud
that bullets hit going ‘thud, thud, thud’,
a lone poppy grows, young and frail
on the battlefields of Passchendaele.
Life symbols sleep, peace, death and war,
remembrance that there should be no more
soldiers and innocents sent to be dead,
on blood swept lands and seas of red.