There's rats in the trenches
A thousand foul stenches
Of piss, pus and puke, blood and death
Jim's screaming his head off
'Cause Frank hasn't got one
And Joey's just drawn his last breath
While back home in Surrey
They try not to worry
And keep all their doubts locked inside
For in a few years
There'll be no more tears
And they'll all wear their poppies with pride...
She can't understand
As she holds the girl's hand
That her daughter's no longer attached
They were all blown to hell
At the annual board meeting
Arms dealers are greeting
Reports of their profits with glee
They'll always be willing
To make a quick killing
From slaughter and mass misery
And when it's all over
They'll head off to stuff
The big bellies their suits cannot hide
And they won't spare a thought
For the carnage they've brought
But they'll all wear their poppies with pride...
Yes they'll all wear their poppies with pride...
Whoever you mix with
There's bound to be someone
Whose mind is still caught in the mesh
Those soldiers aren't heroes
They're nothing but fodder
For the thing that grows fat on our flesh
And you show no respect
For the ones left behind
Or the miserable sods who have died
If you can't face the truth about why they were killed
And you still wear your poppies with pride...
If you still wear your poppies with pride....
Do you still wear your poppies with pride?
(Paul Cudenec, 2009)