He came at first to a chapel in France near Arras,
Next day, to a guarded castle at Boulogne.
And lay in this chapelle ardente overnight,
Soldiers awarded the Légion d'Honneur stood vigil
The following morning undertakers came
Placing the coffin into an oaken casket
Felled in the Royal Palace of Hampton Court
This was banded with iron,
An ancient crusader's sword, selected by the King
Was fixed on top, surmounted by an heavy iron shield
Six black horses pulled him through Bolougne
Where church bells tolled to mark the mournful passing
Prior to the mile-long journey to the harbour
He was piped onto ship with an admiral's call
The vessel, joined by an escort of six battleships.
Came home to the crash of a nineteen gun salute
Then on by train to London, heart of the Empire
Eleventh of November, year of nineteen twenty
His horse-drawn coffin passed through silent crowds.
The British Emperor-King unveiled the Cenotaph
The cortège slowly wending to Westminster
The West Nave of the Abbey flanked
By a guard of honour, a hundred VC heroes
One hundred women stood as guests of honour,
All their menfolk had been killed in war
Tens of thousands filed silent past
In the west end of the Nave the casket lay
In earth brought from the blood-soaked battlefields,
And there he stays, for those who died unmarked,
The nameless multitudes who left their jobs and homes
To walk into the hell of Flanders mud
And whether he died by bayonet, mud or shell
Grief needs it dues, the soldier serves It well
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem