By: Gus Victoria
It’s a long, long way from Tipperary,
The mademoiselle from Armentiers
Has long been silent,
No broken French
Spoken through halting English
In nearly a century,
Quiet the fields have been
Overgrown with grass and flowers,
Life green and colorful
Where once was dark and dead,
No vaporous clouds stalk nearby
And Johnny has long since marched home,
Still we remember
The sacrifices made
As in blood was paid
The balance of the struggle.
Not for ideals,
But to found upon crimson fields
A future of potential
Nearly destroyed by industrialized death.
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