With heads held high,
Unshaken as they march into devastation,
Chances of surviving low,
But hearts high and uplifted,
As they breathe in their last breath of English air,
Air full of love, hope and encouragement,
That will help them to carry on,
As they witness England’s greenery,
For the last time.

Devastation clings to every corner of the ugly battlefield,
As the soldiers give thanks and gratitude to their own true mother,
For giving them the gift of being English,
As they sing songs of happiness,
When the fall clumsily to the ground,
Shutting their weak eyes for the last time.

Their name scribed on England’s greatest history,
His soul, forever young, lingers among British soil,
Whilst the country bows down to them,
As poppies flourish yet again,
As they are honoured and remembered forever.