Red, Red is all we see: The colour of blood all around me. With each and every breath, we know, we're getting closer to death. Back in the trenches, we have walls of mud. Rats and lice share these ditches with us. Every man who goes over the top will add to the blood, The blood that stains our trenches and clothes. Out in No-Man's Land; the Field of Death, We will all draw our final breath, The guns are firing, bang, bang, bang. We will go over the top again, Only to be killed by German Men. Let the Murderers hang, hang, hang! Red: The Colour of Blood, Red is all we see; The colour of blood all around me. With each and every breath, We know, we are marching closer to death. We are Murderers now; No longer human; We've killed so many innocent Men. But Why? They signed up just like us, To find all the fuss. They thought it would be brilliant: They thought it would be Fun. But No! It's Not! Now, their riddled corpses rot. Whenever we see the Sun, We know we're going over again. We loaded each gun And pumped them just to kill more Men. Red, Red is all we see: The Colour of Blood all around me, The Blood of Men: enemies, allies, friends; We know that all lives have their ends. Red, Red is all we see: The Colour of Blood, it surrounds me. With each and every breath, We know we're marching onward to Death. Red of Blood, Mixèd with the brown of mud. I draw my final breath, And taste the bitter scent of Death!