Son, now it's done, once more the shining field Has gone to feed the reaper's blade All silent now, the stubble it lies still With blood red poppies overlaid "Where are my sons?", the mother cries "Just barely grown, yet gone away" "Away, away" the reaper sighs "Cut down like corn on an autumn day" And so once more the seed of life is sown And in loving earth it's laid, but it's never done Once more the young men all Must go to feed the reaper's blade