On every British village green
A statue of a soldier can be seen
Rifle pointed down, and bowed the head.
Regardless of whatever the war
The community still bears the scar
And they gather there each year to honour their dead.

We will remember them
We will remember them
At the going down of the sun
In the glory of God's dawn
As the last note of the "Last Post" fades away.
As the pipers play "The Flowers O' The Forest"
On this, our Armistice Day.