Poppy, poppy burning bright,
Light a soldier home tonight,
Light the way back through the mud,
Through the bones and through the blood.
Poppy, poppy, crushed and torn,
On that last momentous morn,
When the guns at last were still,
There were so few men left to kill.
Poppy, poppy flaming red,
As the hearts of all the dead,
Red the blood that flows in streams,
Peace the stuff of poppy dreams.