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Dock Technik Support The British Legion

Updated: Nov 13

In Flanders' fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place: and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders' fields.


Take up our quarrel with the foe; To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high, If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders' Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields. poem by John McCrae