A poppy pinned
Poppies in a grassy field are seen,
In Flanders' wide and tortured fields.
Splotches of red upon a sea of green,
Remind us of those who did not yield,
But chose to stand against the flood
Of forces poised to steal our peace
And even scared, stood firm so we
Could live lives free of tyranny.
But that was years ago, say you.
Tell me it straight, what did they do?
They stood beneath the field of war
In trenches dug with sweat covered hands
They stood for neither rich or poor
But for every child, woman, man
They are the cries of friends and foes
Thrown down upon that muddy waste
Barbed wire stood where grass had once
Yet all of this they chose to taste.
Upon the bugle's rally cry
They mounted ladders slick with rain
And charged, those brave men, their's to try
To buy our freedom through their crimson stain.
Now near one hundred years ago
On Flanders' fields they took their stand.
Many gave their lives to show
That evil could not take our land.
So stand with them upon this day
Free to live your lives in peace
A poppy pinned to stake our thanks
For men and women and died for you and me.