My life advances, youth to age;
To elder sage, and to despise
The children sitting at my feet
Who nod their heads and patronise,
And listen to my tales of life
That they were taught in school.

The vision of an older man
Long since began to hinder me,
As through the fog of failing sight
I stumbled; and then suddenly
A lens to aid my ageing eyes
And again, I’m twenty-one…

The bloody river’s running strong,
The River Somme, the glory bought
By sacrificing hopeful lives –
The cannon fodder. Sharp and short
Was death upon the poppy fields
That ever after grew.

And I shouted, “Stop the pounding guns.
The river runs, and I am dead!”
But Haig commanded, “Battle on!”
And with bullets whistling round my head,
At the age of only twenty-one
I also cried for peace.

At the age of only twenty-one
I also cried for peace.