Seeing 3rdF's request for Waltzing Matilda, sticking with the Aus theme, I would just like to add a poem from Don Crawford, handwritten in pencil, on two sheets of foolscap, this was handed in to The Perth Courier one morning in the early 1960s. It first saw print a few days later. For several years and by means unknown, “Why Wear A Poppy” appeared in nearly every weekly newspaper and magazine, at Remembrance time. Some years ago, Dominion Command of The Royal Canadian Legion, produced it on slides and tape for television and radio. Schools have used it extensively for their Remembrance programmes. Donald J. Crawford died in hospital at Perth on Saturday, October 7, 2000.
WHY WEAR A POPPY
“Please wear a poppy,” the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.
A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
“Lady”, said he, “may I have one?”
When she’d pinned it on he turned to say,
“Why do we wear a poppy today?”
The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, “This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free –
That’s why we were a poppy, you see.
“I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew
And became a man – as you will, too.
“He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day
When he smiled at me and said, ‘Goodbye,
I’ll be back soon, Mom, so please don’t cry.’
“But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight
(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.
“Till at last, at last, the war was won –
And that’s why we wear a poppy, son.”
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, “Thanks, lady, I’m glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
but your son – did he come back all right?”
A tear rolled down each faded cheek:
She shook her head, but didn’t speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you’d have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, is oft-delayed,
Though our freedom was bought – and thousands paid!
And so when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country’s call
That we, in peace, may see the sun.
Please wear a poppy, it says: “Well done.”
WHY WEAR A POPPY
“Please wear a poppy,” the lady said
And held one forth, but I shook my head.
Then I stopped and watched as she offered them there,
And her face was old and lined with care;
But beneath the scars the years had made
There remained a smile that refused to fade.
A boy came whistling down the street,
Bouncing along on care-free feet.
His smile was full of joy and fun,
“Lady”, said he, “may I have one?”
When she’d pinned it on he turned to say,
“Why do we wear a poppy today?”
The lady smiled in her wistful way
And answered, “This is Remembrance Day,
And the poppy there is the symbol for
The gallant men who died in war.
And because they did, you and I are free –
That’s why we were a poppy, you see.
“I had a boy about your size,
With golden hair and big blue eyes.
He loved to play and jump and shout,
Free as a bird he would race about.
As the years went by he learned and grew
And became a man – as you will, too.
“He was fine and strong, with a boyish smile,
But he seemed with us such a little while
When war broke out and he went away.
I still remember his face that day
When he smiled at me and said, ‘Goodbye,
I’ll be back soon, Mom, so please don’t cry.’
“But the war went on and he had to stay,
And all I could do was wait and pray.
His letters told of the awful fight
(I can see it still in my dreams at night),
With the tanks and guns and cruel barbed wire,
And the mines and bullets, the bombs and fire.
“Till at last, at last, the war was won –
And that’s why we wear a poppy, son.”
The small boy turned as if to go,
Then said, “Thanks, lady, I’m glad to know.
That sure did sound like an awful fight,
but your son – did he come back all right?”
A tear rolled down each faded cheek:
She shook her head, but didn’t speak.
I slunk away in a sort of shame,
And if you were me you’d have done the same;
For our thanks, in giving, is oft-delayed,
Though our freedom was bought – and thousands paid!
And so when we see a poppy worn,
Let us reflect on the burden borne
By those who gave their very all
When asked to answer their country’s call
That we, in peace, may see the sun.
Please wear a poppy, it says: “Well done.”
NICE ONE MUM
