Carry your cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha
Through the widening gyre; in the absence of everything
Carry your cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha
For a cause not known to the gods of our fathers
The earth did tremble, the skies did cry
It was our turn to play God
As we carried our cross
To Flanders, where the pipers played the song of Caber Fidh
To Flanders, in joyful march
To Flanders, here we were the men of no man's land
To Flandеrs, where war was changed forеver
To Somme, to Ypres, to Passchendaele
For a thousand days we wore the mark of Cain
We band our sorrow again
On the bloody fields of Flanders
We were the men of no man's land
Then came the gas; a harbinger of misfortune
Where all life did die, and by God the stench was infernal
Yet we carried our cross, to the muddied step of Golgotha
Where the earth did tremble, and the skies did cry
Yet we carried our cross through the muddied step of Golgotha
And like the birth of a pregnant insectWe went over the top
To Flanders, through the gaping shell-holes filled with decaying flesh
To Flanders, thrust in the barbed-wire
To Flanders, "the worms crawled in, the worms crawled out."
To Flanders, where these days will live in infamy
I prayed for that cliff to come
But it never came
(And) On the eleventh hour
Of the eleventh day
Of the eleventh month
The guns fell silent
"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
We are the dead, short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."