REMEMBRANCE DAY.

The men and boys that died there
from villages and towns
in Somerset and Norfolk
from valleys and from Downs.
They marched away as heroes
to fight the Hun for King
and no one ever told them
it was a glorious thing

to die for King and country to be the glorious dead
to die for you and die for me and die for what was said.

I stood there with my Father
at every Remembrance day
watched him as the soldier
heard the words he'd say.
"We will remember them"
and then the bugle sang
a last post, a coming home
for those the final gang

to die for King and country to be the glorious dead
to die for you and die for me and die for what was said.

"O Valiant Hearts" we sing and cry
and even though not there
I think I understand the pain
of those that had the fear.
My forbears did it for me
fought the awful foe
stood up and were all counted
with reasons we don't know

to die for King and country to be the glorious dead
to die for you and die for me and die for what was said.

And still they do it for us
lay down their priceless lives
leave children without fathers
and black-eyed weeping wives.
We'll never learn the answer
as long as man is man
and King and Queen rule over us
to draw their awful plan

to die for Queen and country to be the glorious dead
to die for you and die for me and die for what was said.

The poppy with its redness
its black and beating core
grows from the blood in Flanders
and from the death of war.
We wear it on our collars
we wear it without shame
November is the timing
the month we say your name

to die for Queen and country to be the glorious dead
to die for you and die for me and die for what is said.