[G]well in my dreams
I can [C]see a[Am]gain
I can [D]see all the colours
I re[C]member the [G]men
I can walk through the fields [C]of Blood Pop[Am]py Red
I can
[D]walk through the fields
Not [C]trip over the [G]dead
the sun on my face
No longer warms my soul
I tread gently over
where the angels fear to go
The mud and
the mire
that once was my bed
Return again
to haunt me in my head
well in my dreams I can see again
the
green fields of Flanders
that held fear for me then
For we were the young men
our country could loss
we were
the young men
that fought out your wars
dying in Flanders
at last God on thier side
when the bombing started
we prayed only not to die
still whistling a tune
as we marched off to the fight
then fearing the day
as I now fear each night
in my boyhood days
to the church I did go
There the preacher
taught me to reap
and to sow
a crop of young men
we did reap but can't regrow
lying under the poppies
at last safe below
Dying
by their thousands
by the bullet and mine
for each mother's son
it was his first time
and in his dreams
he
can only see
all of the colours
that are denied to me .
he can walk through the fileds of Blood Poppy Red
he
can walk through the fields along with our dead
well I've listened to the Sergeant the clergy and all
I've heard the
silence of dead men as they fall
I ask myself what is it all about?
if our eyes offend should we not take them out?
for
my eyes offended me each day of this war
if this is sense then what good is it for
I returned to the bible so true
and so stout
my pain I removed as I tore at them out
well only in my dreams now I see again
I walk through the
fields I can remember the men
I can walk through the fields of Blood Poppy Red
I can walk through the fields
of Blood Poppy Red
I can walk through the fields along with the dead
roll calll
