Oh Passchendaele, what have you become Your gentle fields of green, a scarred and bloody scene Oh Passchendaele, our best and bravest sons From far across the sea, lie fallen at your feet Called to the firing line Stumbled through the dead and dyin' Shell holes and bitter, freezing rain tumbles down Men of the 3rd Brigade Huddled in the break of day Rise from the mud and storm the guns on the ridge Oh Passchendaele, what have you become Your gentle fields of green, a scarred and bloody scene Oh Passchendaele, our best and bravest sons From far across the sea, lie fallen at your feet Our ruthless artillery Fall short of the enemy And those of us survived, ordered over the top Hung up in tangled wire Cut down in machine gun fire Cries for the stretcher bearers, God help us all Oh Passchendaele, what have you become Your gentle fields of green, a scarred and bloody scene Oh Passchendaele, our best and bravest sons From far across the sea, lie fallen at your feet Our officers have all been slain Thousands lost and nothing gained All I see is desolation Oh Passchendaele, what have you become Your gentle fields of green, a scarred and bloody scene Oh Passchendaele, our best and bravest sons From far across the sea, lie fallen at your feet