text: Well, how do you do Private William McBride?
  Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
  Ill rest for awhile in the warm summer sun
  Ive been walking all day, and Im nearly done
  And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
  When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916
  And I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean
  Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene?
  Did they beat the drum slowly?
  Did they sound the pipes lowly?
  Did the rifles fire oer you as they lowered you down?
  Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
  Did the pipes play the Flowers o the Forest?
  Well the sun it shines now on these green fields of France
  The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
  The trenches have vanished now under the plow
  No gas and no barbed wire, no guns fire now
  For here in this graveyard its still no mans land
  And the countless white crosses in mute witness stand
  To mans blind indifference to his fellow man
  And a whole generation who butchered and damned
  Did they beat the drum slowly?
  Did they sound the pipes lowly?
  Did the rifles fire oer you as they lowered you down?
  Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
  Did the pipes play the Flowers o the Forest?
  Well I cant help but wonder now, Willie McBride
  Do all those who lie here know just why they died?
  Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
  Did you really believe this war would end all wars?
  But the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
  The killing, the dying: it was all done in vain
  For William McBride, its all happened again
  And again and again and again and again
  Did they beat the drum slowly?
  Did they sound the pipes lowly?
  Did the rifles fire oer you as they lowered you down?
  Did the bugle play the last post and chorus?
  Did the pipes play the Flowers o the Forest?