Young men, soldiers, Nineteen Fourteen
  Marching through countries they'd never seen
  Virgins with rifles, a game of charades
  All for a Children's Crusade
    Pawns in the game are not victims of chance
  Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France
  Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
  All of those young lives betrayed
    The children of England would never be slaves
  They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
  The flower of England face down in the mud
  And stained in the blood of a whole generation
    Corpulent generals safe behind lines
  History's lessons drowned in red wine
  Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade
  All of those young lives betrayed
  All for a Children's Crusade
    The children of England would never be slaves
  They're trapped on the wire and dying in waves
  The flower of England face down in the mud
  And stained in the blood of a whole generation
    Midnight in Soho, Nineteen Eighty-four
  Fixing in doorways, opium slaves
  Poppies for young men, such bitter trade
  All of those young lives betrayed
  All for a Children's Crusade