This is a song called Petals of a Poppy by a mate of mine written well over 25 years ago. I still do it occasionally.


Petals of a Poppy by Mike Hughes

Tommy was a baker's lad from up round Oldham way
Quiet and well spoken, he hadn't yet learned to shave
Joined up at sixteen it's my duty he's been taight to think
Now he's hanging on the wire like a puppet with broken strings

Ch
And they called him Tommy and they called him Pierre
And they called him Hans and Joe
Stripped of their lives in the first flush of youth
Like the petals of a poppy when the wind blows
Like the petals of a poppy when the wind blows

Pierre left his father's farm, left the tree lined fields behind
Dit Au-revoir a sa mere, shut down that part of his mind
Fought his way through the Somme, survived Ypres, wounded at Ardennes
But when the wind blew his own gas back he died with the rest of his men

Hans played the trumpet in the Bavarian mountain band
He laughed and drank so many nights away, with the pretty girls he sang
But for months he'd watched the charging men dance to the tune of his machine gun
Till he could stand no more, he deserted his post and walked to his death in the sun

Joe came from Michigan for hounour and glory bound
For Yankee Doodle and over there gave this scrap a glorious sound
But his empty bunk, scattered possessions, letters from home and photos of his dames
They gave no hint to his first flight that ended gloriously in flames


Christmas 1914 - yes that was one of Mike Harding's - another one I do. It's a "pin drop" song!

Cheers
Mark