Countless poppies now grow
Where men had once stood,
Or had peered from a dugout,
Or had hidden in a wood,
Where bullets had hailed and
Young lives were squandered,
As poisoned gas smothered
And big guns thundered,
Those in charge must have surely
Questioned and pondered.

Poppies grow in peace now,
Gunfire no longer heard,
Let this be the case forever
For PEACE - is the golden word.