The Green Fields Of France

Well, how do you do young Willie McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside
And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the great fall-in in 1916
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene

Did they beat the drum slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the Last Post and Chorus
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest

Did you leave a ere wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
In that faithful heart you're forever 19
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed forever behind a glass pane
In an old photograph torn, battered and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Did they beat the drum slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the Last Post and Chorus
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest

Now, Willie McBride, I can't help wonder why
Do those who lie here know why did they died
Did they believe when they answered the cause
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
But the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and the dying were all done in vain
But for, Willie McBride, it all happened again
And again and again and again and again
Did they beat the drum slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the Last Post and Chorus
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest