The Green Fields of France (No Man's Land) - Dropkick Murphys

Oh how do you do, young Willy McBride

Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside

And rest for a while in the warm summer sun

I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done

And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen

When you joined the great fallen in 1916

Well I hope you died quick

And I hope you died clean

Oh Willy McBride, was is it slow and obscene

Did they beat the drums slowly

Did the play the fife lowly

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down

Did the band play the last post and

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind

In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined

And though you died back in 1916

To that loyal heart you're forever nineteen

Or are you a stranger without even a name

Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane

In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained

And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Did they beat the drums slowly

Did the play the fife lowly

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down

Did the band play the last post and

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

The sun shining down on these green fields of France

The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance

The trenches have vanished long under the plow

No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing down

But here in this graveyard that's still no mans land

The countless white crosses in mute witness stand

To man's blind indifference to his fellow man

And a whole generation were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly

Did the play the fife lowly

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down

Did the band play the last post and

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

And I can't help but wonder oh Willy McBride

Do all those who lie here know why they died

Did you really believe them when they told you the cause

Did you really believe that this war would end wars

Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame

The killing and dying it was all done in vain

Oh Willy McBride it all happened again

and again, and again, and again, and again

Did they beat the drums slowly

Did the play the fife lowly

Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down

Did the band play the last post and

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest