Oh, they'll tell you to be strong,
To hold your banner high;
Then they'll send you off to war,
What does it matter if you die?
When you fall down in the mud,
They'll expect you to carry on,
Accompanied by the thud,
That comes from dropping bombs.
So shine your shoes young man,
Obey their every order;
You'll still end up in no-man's land,
Like a lamb led to the slaughter.
Later then, beneath blue skies,
When death has come to willing slaves,
Tears will fall from every eye,
While poppies grow upon their graves.