| Well, how do you do Private William McBride?
|
| Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
|
| I’ll rest for awhile in the warm summer sun
|
| I’ve been walking all day, and I’m nearly done
|
| And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
|
| When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916
|
| And I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean
|
| Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene?
|
| Did they beat the drum slowly?
|
| Did they sound the pipes lowly?
|
| Did the rifles fire o’er you as they lowered you down?
|
| Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
|
| Did the pipes play the «Flowers o' the Forest»?
|
| Well the sun it shines now on these green fields of France
|
| The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
|
| The trenches have vanished now under the plow
|
| No gas and no barbed wire, no guns fire now
|
| For here in this graveyard it’s still no man’s land
|
| And the countless white crosses in mute witness stand
|
| To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man
|
| And a whole generation who butchered and damned
|
| Did they beat the drum slowly?
|
| Did they sound the pipes lowly?
|
| Did the rifles fire o’er you as they lowered you down?
|
| Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
|
| Did the pipes play the «Flowers o' the Forest»?
|
| Well I can’t help but wonder now, Willie McBride
|
| Do all those who lie here know just why they died?
|
| Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
|
| Did you really believe this war would end all wars?
|
| But the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
|
| The killing, the dying: it was all done in vain
|
| For William McBride, it’s all happened again
|
| And again and again and again and again
|
| Did they beat the drum slowly?
|
| Did they sound the pipes lowly?
|
| Did the rifles fire o’er you as they lowered you down?
|
| Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
|
| Did the pipes play the «Flowers o' the Forest»? |