I WAS WALKING DOWN WHITEHALL

A THOUGHT CAME INTO MY BRAIN

SUPPOSING THE POPPIES WERE WHITE

NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

COULD PEOPLE EVER CHANGE THEIR MIND

ABOUT THE REASONS THEY FILL THEIR

BUTTONHOLES WITH WIRE AND PAPER

DYED THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

THE LEGION COLLECTORS TINS

SHAKE IN EVERY CITY, EVERY TOWN

BLACK CENTRES TO THE FLOWERS

STILL THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

I WANT POPPIES FOR DEAD SOLDIERS

POPPIES FOR THEIR MUMS AND DADS

THEIR PARTNERS AND THEIR CHILDREN

NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

POPPIES FOR THOSE DEAD CIVILIANS

YOUNG MEN THEIR WIVES AND CHILDREN

GRAND PARENTS BLEEDING IN THE STREETS

IT’S THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

I JUST CANNOT GET THAT THOUGHT

TO DISAPPEAR FROM INSIDE MY HEAD

IF ONLY THE POPPIES WERE WHITE

NOT THE USUAL SHADE OF BLOODY RED

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

WHITE POPPIES………. 

WHITE POPPIES……….

COPYRIGHT: HARRY ROGERS – 10-08-2012