Where are the lads who went out to the war?

This year, and last year and long, long ago --

With eyes full of laughter and song on their lips --

(Our sad hearts flew after as birds follow ships!)

Where are they now, do you know?

Some sleep in Flanders and some sleep in France,

This year, and last year, and long years to come --

And under the rampart that guards far Stamboul

Some are camped in a rest deep and cool,

And they heed not the bugle and drum!

They'll come, though not all! They will come from the war! --

This year or next year, or early or late --

And come well or wounded, come many or few,

They will bring back their honor, their faith high and true

Or will bear it to Paradise Gate.