In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow: In Flanders fields.
If the skies fall, one may hope to catch larks.
Actually, if I could deliberately sit down and write a pop hit, all my songs would be pop hits! Let's put it this way. I play what I like to hear. And sometimes I like to hear something poppy, and sometimes I don't.
We have chased away the clouds, the sky is all 'rose.'
'Under the Poppy' is the love story of Istvan and Rupert, lovers and friends from childhood, who've been parted by jealousy - and a secret betrayal by Istvan's sister, Decca, who also loves Rupert, with whom she runs the brothel called Under the Poppy, where the floozies cater to every taste from saucy to peculiar.
The prayers of cowards fortune spurns.
I must return to my old comrades of the Great War - to the brown, the treeless, the flat and grave-set plain of Flanders - to the rolling, heat-miraged downlands of the Somme - for I am dead with them, and they live in me again.
I sing like a lark.
Scatter your flowers as you go; you will never go this way again.
I live in the English countryside, so I'm surrounded by magpies.