Back to the trench that I see so clearly,
Back to the fight I can see so nearly,
Back to the friends that I love so dearly,
The dead men lying amid the dew,
The droning sound of the great shells flying,
Filth and honour, and pain, and dying—
Dead friends of mine, oh, cease your crying,
For I come back to you.
Back to the fight I can see so nearly,
Back to the friends that I love so dearly,
The dead men lying amid the dew,
The droning sound of the great shells flying,
Filth and honour, and pain, and dying—
Dead friends of mine, oh, cease your crying,
For I come back to you.
