Wednesday, 30 October 2013

The Green Fields of France

Hello everyone. So recently, a song from the 1980s (originally by Eric Bogle) sung by the High Kings, an Irish band, has become my new favourite. The song is called the Green Fields of  France, and it is a sad song, though very beautiful (I have suddenly taken a liking to sad songs. I blame it on Claude-Michael's soundtrack for Les Mis√©rables 2012. Not that it's a bad thing). Below is the music video and the lyrics. It's not a very well known, and not very popular/liked either, but if you don't know it, just focus on the lyrics. They're amazing, and have a very powerful meaning to them. And even if you don't like it, try to figure out the message they are trying to send out to us.

"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words." - Victor Hugo



The Green Fields of France




Well how do you do, young Willy McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside
And rest for awhile 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916
I hope you died well
And I hope you died clean
Or young Willy McBride, was is it slow and obscene

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post in chorus
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest

And did you leave 'ere wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart are you forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclose forever behind some old glass pane
In an old photograph torn, battered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post in chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

The sun, now it shines on the green fields of France
There's a warm summer's breeze that makes the red poppies dance
And look how the sun shines from under the ploughs
There's no gas, and no barbed wire, no gun firing now
But here in this graveyard that's still no man's land
Oh, the countless white crosses stand mute in the sand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post in chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

Now young Willy McBride, I can't help but wonder- why-
Do all those who lie here know why did they die
And did they really believe when they answered the call
Did they really believe that this war would end wars
For the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying were all done in vain
For young Willy McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
And did the band play the last post in chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

Did they beat the drums slowly
Did they play the fife lowly
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down
Did the band play the last post in chorus
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?


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