A Square Dance

In Flanders fields in Northern France

They’re all doing a brand new dance

It makes you happy and out of breath

And it’s called the Dance of Death

Everybody stands in line

Everybody’s feeling fine

We’re all going to a hop

1 – 2 – 3 and over the top

It’s the dance designed to thrill

It’s the mustard gas quadrille

A dance for men – girls have no say in it

For your partner is a bayonet

See how the dancers sway and run

To the rhythm of the gun

Swing your partner dos-y-doed

All around the shells explode

Honour your partner form a square

Smell the burning in the air

Over the barbed wire kicking high

Men like shirts hung out to dry

If you fall that’s no disgrace

Someone else will take your place

‘Old soldiers never die…’

... Only young ones

In Flanders fields where mortars blaze

They’re all doing the latest craze

Khaki dancers out of breath

Doing the glorious Dance of Death

Doing the glorious Dance of Death