In a foreign field he lay

lonely soldier unknown grave

on his dying words he prays

tell the world of Paschendale


Relive all that he's been through

last communion of his soul

rust your bullets with his tears

let me tell you 'bout his years


Laying low in a blood filled trench

killing time 'til my very own death

on my face I can feel the falling rain

never see my friends again

in the smoke, in the mud and lead

smell of fear and feeling of dread

soon be time to go over the wall

rapid fire and the end of us all


Whistles, shouts and more gun fire

lifeless bodies hang on barbwire

battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb

be reunited with my dead friends soon

many soldiers eighteen years

drown in mud, no more tears

surely a war no one can win

killing time about to begin


Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again

Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again


The bodies of ours and our foes

the sea of death it overflows

in no man's land God only knows

into jaws of death we go...


Crucified as if on a cross

allied troops, they mourn their loss

German war propaganda machine

such before has never been seen

swear I heard the angels cry

pray to God no more may die

so that people know the truth

tell the tale of Paschendale


Cruelty has a human heart

everyman does play his part

terror of the men we kill

the human heart is hungry still


I stand my ground for the very last time

gun is ready as I stand in line

nervous wait for the whistle to blow

rush of blood and over we go...


Blood is falling like the rain

its crimson cloak unveils again

the sound of guns can't hide their shame

and so we die in Paschendale


Dodging shrapnel and barbwire

running straight at cannon fire

running blind as I hold my breath

say a prayer symphony of death

as we charge the enemy lines

a burst of fire and we go down

I choke a cry but no one hears

feel the blood go down my throat


Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again

Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again

Home, far away. From the war, a chance to live again

Home, far away. But the war, no chance to live again


See my spirit on the wind

across the lines beyond the hill

friend and foe will meet again

those who died at Paschendale