Happy Birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Happy birthday, Mike, she said,
As she laid the twenty-one
Blood-red poppies
On the neat and tidy grave.

Happy birthday, Mike she sighed,
As she tried to stop her tears,
From dropping softly
On the neat and tidy grave.

Happy birthday, Mike, she sobbed.
Robbed of a son, a precious son.
Her only child, his name inscribed
On the neat and tidy grave

Happy birthday, Mike, she cried.
You died a hero - so they said.
And then they marched and laid you here,
In this neat and tidy grave.