In Flanders Fields

Thank you for your brave and selfless sacrifice. It means more to me, Canada and the world then we usually say.

Poppy by graveIn Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That 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 fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. John McCrae

This entry was made on and filed into Personal.


Alan wrote on

Ah history! That bastion of whitewashed half truth. Where were my oppressed ancestors in those noble times but “asked to win for Ireland those national rights which the British government has been asking them to win for Belgium” (James Connolly)

Come out ye Black and Tans
come out and fight me like a man
show your wife how you won medals out in Flanders
tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away
from the green and lovely lanes in Killeshandra.
- Dominic Behan