Just a day, another day
Beneath the Belgian sun
Past grave on grave, row on row
Until I see the name John Condon

Carved in stone with harp and crown
Little crosses in the ground
And standing there, my silent prayer
Is for this boy who died a soldier

Wee lad who'll not grow old
Heroes that don't come home
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy

Just a recruit in soldiers boots
From Ireland's shores to here
This living hell, this Poelkappele
Where young men die like you, John Condon

And all around, the harp and crown
The crosses in the ground
Stand up in proof, the bitter truth
The waste of youth that lies forgotten

Wee lad who'll not grow old
Heroes that won't come home
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy.

Now tell me John, before I go on
What did you come here for
With Ireland's bold, your life untold
14 years old, to die a soldier?

And all around, the harp and crown
The crosses in the ground
What cause was served ?
So undeserved

Heroes that don't come home
Sing out for all their souls
Here they lie in Belgian fields
And Picardy