Well how do you do, Private William McBride? Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done Oh I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen When you joined the great fallen in nineteen-sixteen And I hope you died well I hope you died clean Oh young William McBride, was it Did they beat the drums slowly? Did they play the fife lowly? Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down? Did the bugles sound out the Last Post in chorus? Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? Did you leave here a wife or a sweetheart behind? In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined? Although you died back in nineteen-sixteen In that faithful heart, are you forever nineteen? Or are you a stranger without even a name Enclosed then forever behind a gla** frame In an old photograph torn, battered, and stained And faded Did they beat the drums slowly? Did they play the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down? Did the bugles sound out the Last Post in chorus? Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? Now young William McBride, I can't help but wonder, why? Do those that lie here know why did they die? And did they believe when they answered the call? Did they really believe that this war would end wars? The sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the shame The k**ing and dying was all done in vain For young William McBride it all happened again And again Did they beat the drums slowly? Did they play the fife lowly? Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down? Did the bugles sound out the Last Post in chorus? Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? Did they beat the drums slowly? Did they play the fife lowly? Did the rifles fire o'er you as they lowered you down? Did the bugles sound out the Last Post in chorus? Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?