I can hear their voices
On that lost and lonely field,
I can see their ghosts
So very far from home.
From the fields of flanders
To the deserts of Iraq,
Our sons and brothers have fought
And they have lost their lives.
Our mothers and daughters
Weep bitter tears,
For loved ones now so far away
Who will never return home.
Who will remmeber their deeds?
Who will tell of their courage?
Not the children of these modern times
For they have lost their way.
The world has changed
And not for the better,
As our young forget their heritage
Seduced by wrath and hate.
Each passing generation
Leaves their dead on foreighn fields,
More voices to drift upon the winds
More families broken by grief.
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