In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
Which 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 field.
Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch: be yours to raise it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Arthur Fields - Hunting the Hun
Minnutes - Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag
Matthew Ryan - Dulce Et Decorum Est
Coldplay - Poppyfields
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