Where is the anger, wrath untold
For these young men that go to die,
In foreign fields where we behold,
Bright plumes of poppies where they lie.
Words can’t explain the tears that well,
For sons and brothers lost to life,
Too soon the ringing of that bell,
The rousing epitaph, the doleful fife.
......
Where is the anger, wrath untold
For these young men that go to die,
In foreign fields where we behold,
Bright plumes of poppies where they lie.
Words can’t explain the tears that well,
For sons and brothers lost to life,
Too soon the ringing of that bell,
The rousing epitaph, the doleful fife.
......