The poem
Don't jeer because we celebrate Armistice Day, Though thirty years of sorry fate Have passed away. Though still we gaurd the Sacred Flame, And fly the Flag, That World War Two with grief and shame Revealed--a rag.
For France cannot defend to-day Her native land; And she is far to proud to pray For helping hand. Aye, though she stands amid the Free, In love with life, No more her soil will shambles be In world-war strife.
Still we who tend the deathless Flame Of Verdun speak; It is our glory and our shame, For we are weak. We have too much of blood and blight To answer for . . . No, France will never, never fight Another war!