Smoke fill the air, burning the eyes
As the bullets fly, piercing the sky
They march to the edge of the trench
Blending mud with death's bloody stench
Fathers hold your daughters who cry
Mothers weep for your sons who will die
(Bring them home, bring them home)
From those killing fields
(Bring them home, bring them home)
Where they fight for the free
(Bring them home, bring them home)
A slaughter that stains for all time
The memory of a generation that died
Barbed wire scars on a no man's land
Fighting as brothers, the stand
Thoughts turn to homes far away
Made safe with a price they all pay
As the working man fights the war
Leaders safe in their comfortable halls
Fathers hold your daughters who cry
Mothers weep for your sons who will die
(Bring them home, bring them home)
From those killing fields
(Bring them home, bring them home)
Where they fight for the free
(Bring them home, bring them home)
A slaughter that stains for all time
The memory of a generation that died
Nature clears from their eyes
Many scars that the war left behind
Fields bathed in red from new life
But the memories cut like a knife
Mistakes are always repeated
One voice silenced, a new voice will roar
Nations scramble in the name of freedom
And darkness descends once more
They shall now grow old, as we are left grow old
Age shall not weary, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in morning
We will remember them, lest we forget
