Greenfields of France
Greenfields of France: Echoes of Sacrifice
Lyrics
Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Addressing Private William McBride, a soldier buried in a graveyard.
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
Asking for permission to sit by the graveside and reflect.
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
Expressing the need for rest in the warm summer sun after a long day of walking.
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
Describing personal exhaustion and nearing the end of the journey.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
Observing McBride's young age, only 19, when he died in 1916 during a war.
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Referring to McBride joining the fallen soldiers in 1916.
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Expressing a wish for a quick and clean death for McBride.
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Pondering if McBride's death was slow and obscene.
Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Asking if traditional military honors like drum beats and bagpipes accompanied McBride's burial.
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Inquiring about the ceremonial aspects of lowering McBride into the grave.
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Questioning if The Last Post and Flowers of the Forest were played during the burial.
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?
Asking if McBride had a wife or sweetheart and if his memory is cherished.
And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
Reflecting on McBride's eternal youth despite dying in 1916.
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
Wondering if McBride is now a nameless stranger or remembered behind glass.
And, though you died back in 1916,
Describing the sunny atmosphere on the green fields of France.
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Portraying the peaceful scene with wind, poppies, and vanished trenches.
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Highlighting the graveyard as No Man's Land with countless white crosses.
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
Criticizing humanity's indifference to the sacrifices of a whole generation.
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
Expressing the decay of memories through old, torn photographs.
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?
Describing the aging of the photograph in a brown leather frame.
The sun's shining down on these green fields of France
Setting the scene of a sunny day on the green fields of France.
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
Describing the gentle wind and dancing red poppies.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
Noting the disappearance of trenches, gas, barbed wire, and gunfire.
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
Emphasizing the tranquility of the graveyard, which was once a battlefield.
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
Pointing out the white crosses in the graveyard as witnesses to human indifference.
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
Reflecting on the senseless slaughter and damnation of a whole generation.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
Expressing a question about the understanding of those buried, especially Willie McBride.
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.
Questioning the motives and beliefs behind McBride and others' deaths.
And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Wondering if McBride and others knew the true reasons for their sacrifice.
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Questioning McBride's belief in "The Cause" that led to the war.
Did you really believe them when they told you ""The Cause?""
Challenging the notion that the war would end all wars.
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Summarizing the futility of war with its suffering, sorrow, glory, shame, killing, and dying.
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
Concluding that all the sacrifices were in vain, repeating the cycle of tragedy.
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
Reiterating the repetition of meaningless suffering and death for Willie McBride and others.
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
Emphasizing the cyclical nature of tragic events, suggesting history repeating itself.
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Repeating the idea of history repeating itself and the futility of war.
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