All gave some and some gave all, and none shall be forgotten

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead, Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fiields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies
grow in Flanders fields.

Hard to type this with tears in your eyes but I think I corrected my typing errors.