It’s eleven o’clock on this special day,
That special day one hundred years ago
When it all stopped.
The fighting lasted up to the hour,
But then it ceased,
The war to end all wars was over.
It didn’t stop though,
Those who lost loved ones grieved,
And on this day, one hundred years hence
We still grieve,
Grieve at the waste of life.
They went to war as a duty,
But that duty for millions,
Was to die,
To die for reasons they never knew.
It was said to be the right thing to do,
The war to end all wars, didn’t.
Still we fight wars, why?
Those in power believe,
Believe they are right,
Right to inflict their wills on others
And waste human life,
Just to get their own way.
What if they are wrong
And others are right?
But on this day we remember
As the poppies grew,
Marking a place for all who died
In that war to end all wars,
And for all who remember.