The Green Fields Of France Lyrics - John Mcdermott

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 

I hope you died well and I hope you died clean 

Or young 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 wife or a sweetheart behind 

In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined 

Although you died back in 1916 

In that faithful heart are you forever 19 

Or are you a stranger without even a name 

Enclosed then forever behind a glass frame 

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 

The sun now it shines on the green fields of france 

There's a warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance 

And look how the sun shines from under the clouds 

There's no gas, no barbwire, there's no guns firing now 

But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land 

The countless white crosses stand mute in the sand 

To man's blind indifference to his fellow man 

To a whole generation that were butchered and damned. 

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 young willie mcbride I can't help wonder why 

Do those that lie here know why did they die 

Did they believe when they answered the call 

Did they really believe that this war would end wars 

Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain 

The killing and the dying were all done in vain 

For young 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