Green Fields Of France

Well how do you do, young Willy 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
You joined the great fallin' in 1916
Well I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean
Willy McBride, was it slow and obscene?

[Chorus:]
Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound a 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 wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart, is your memory in shrine?
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 and battered and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown yellow frame

[Chorus]
Now Willy McBride, I can't help wondering why
Do those who lie here know why they died
Did they really believe when they answered the cause
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?

But the sorrow, the sufferin', the glory, the pain
The killing and dying were all done in vain
But, Willy McBride, it all happened again, and again, and again, and again, and again

[Chorus]
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?