Poppy Fields

#1 by ulsterman , Mon Nov 01, 2010 2:26 pm

In a town just north of Belfast ,
the white houses row on row,
there was raised an Ulster family,
how proudly they did grow.

Now the proud and happy parents,
watched their son grow to a man,
and they taught him truth and justice,
in this part of Ulsters land.

One day their came a letter,
With his comrades he would go,
To a land across the water,
where the tears and blood would flow.

So he bade farewell to Ulster,
and next morning at the dawn,
a broken hearted mother,
Sent her son off to the SOMME.

One night as she lay sleeping,
in a dream there at the door,
stood a handsome looking soldier,
the KIng's colours he had on.

He said mother don't ye know me,
let me in I'm feelin' cold,
but the crimson blood upon his chest ,
his fateful story told.

In a town just north of Belfast,
where a father proudly cried,
and a broken hearted mother,
wiped the tears falling from her eyes,

At a graveyard full of people,
the white crosses row on row,
where he sleeps beside this comrades now,
in a fields where the red Poppies grow .

Posts: 151
Date registered 10.29.2010


Scottish Gunrunners
Pittance of time

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