The Bride Awaits
The bride awaits her groom
Beside her favorite tree
The war torn land consumes
The blood drenched Field's run free
The poppies grow around
No wedding will there be
Dressed in white she seeks the light
Is this called victory
The innocent shall fall
And many shall mourn there loss
No victory shall there be
To many will pay the cost
The widows mourn in early dawn
Victory for all big and small
They cry in hallowed halls
As to day again the blood that
stained field's of poppy red
We will remember them the living and the dead
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