The Dubliners - Willy McBride

oh how do you do, private William McBride
do you mind if i sit here, down by your grave side
and ill 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 where only nineteen
when you joined the death hero`s in 1915
well i hope you died quick and i hope you died clean
or Willy McBride, was it slow and obscene

did they beat the drums slowly
did they sound the five lowly
did the rifles fire are you, as they lower you down
did the bugles sing the last post in chorus
did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

and did you leave a wife, or a sweetheart behind
in some faithfull heart is your memory inshrined
and all you died, back in1915
to some faithfull heart, are you forever nineteen
or are you a stranger without even a name
and shrined forever behind a glass frame
in an old photograph torn and tattered and stained
and fading to yellow in a brown leather frame

did they beat the drums slowly
did they sound the five lowly
did the rifles fire are you, as they lower you down
did the bugles sing the last post in chorus
did the pipes play the flowers of the forest well the sun shining down on these green fields in France
the warm wind blows gentley and the red poppies dance
the trenches have vanised, under the plough
no gas and no barbwire, no guns firing now
but here in this graveyard, that is still no man`s land
the countless white crosses, in mute witness stand
to man`s blind in difference, to his fellow man
to a whole generation, who was butchered and damned

did they beat the drums slowly
did they sound the five lowly
did the rifles fire are you, as they lower you down
did the bugles sing the last post in chorus
did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

and i can`t help, but wonder now 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 and the glory, the shame
the killing, the dying, it was all done in vain
oh Willy McBride it`s all happened again
and again, and again, and again, and again

did they beat the drums slowly
did they sound the five lowly
did the rifles fire are you, as they lower you down
did the bugles sing the last post in chorus
did the pipes play the flowers of the forest