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Robert Laurence Binyon - Ypres
Work rating: Low

On the road to Ypres, on the long road,
 Marching strong,
 We`ll sing a song of Ypres, of her glory
 And her wrong.

 Proud rose her towers in the old time,
 Long ago.
 Trees stood on her ramparts, and the water
 Lay below.

 Shattered are the towers into potsherds--
 Jumbled stones.
 Underneath the ashes that were rafters
 Whiten bones.

 Blood is in the cellar where the wine was,
 On the floor.
 Rats run on the pavement where the wives met
 At the door.

 But in Ypres there`s an army that is biding,
 Seen of none.
 You`d never hear their tramp nor see their shadow
 In the sun.

 Thousands of the dead men there are waiting
 Through the night,
 Waiting for a bugle in the cold dawn
 Blown for fight.

 Listen when the bugle`s calling Forward!
 They`ll be found,
 Dead men, risen in battalions
 From underground,

 Charging with us home, and through the foemen
 Driving fear
 Swifter than the madness in a madman,
 As they hear

 Dead men ring the bells of Ypres
 For a sign,
 Hear the bells and fear them in the Hunland
 Over Rhine!
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