What We Won

Was it for this, I want to know, We saw our boys to Flanders go; For this that Belgium suffered so, That France withstood the ruthless foe, And said "No further shalt thou go," That Serbia was plunged in woe, And women wept along the Po; That Poles were herded to and fro, And Anzacs died at Gallipo; That Britain let her plans all go, Laid bare her breast, and took the blow, And held the seas 'neath sun and snow Danger above and death below; That Uncle Sam, though rather slow To scrap the doctrine of Monroe, Got busy at the final show?

For years of blood and tears, although We boast the Kaiser's overthrow, The net results seem these, I trow, That profiteers pile up the dough, And gather where they did not sow, That scythes of death fresh harvests mow, Where Bolshevists fierce whiskers grow, And no Hun yet has eaten crow; That Wild Sinn Feiners, fallen low, Plan proud Britannia's overthrow, Save these the world can little show, But wooden crosses, row on row. In Flanders fields, where poppies blow.