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
On battlefields the cannons boom
And fitful flashes light the gloom
While up above, like eagles, fly
The fierce destroyers of the sky
With stains the earth wherein you lie
Is redder than the poppy bloom
On many a field
Sleep on, ye brave! The shrieking shell
The quaking trench, the startling yell
The fury of the battle hell
Shall wake you not, for all is well
Sleep peacefully, for all is well
Your flaming torch aloft we bear
With burning heart and oath we swear
To keep the faith, to fight it through
To crush the foe, or sleep with you
On many a field.
Eternal gratitude to our wonderful friends, the Australians.