Every year about this time.

You'll see him at the mall.

A man who is old and slightly bent,

Who once stood straight & tall.

And if you go you'll see him,

For he's there everyday.

Dressed in a Legion blazer,

With poppies in a tray.

Who is this ancient warrior,

Who sacrificed his youth?

So we all could live in freedom,

And all could know the truth.

How many times still in his youth,

Did this man go ...through hell?

How many times watched helplessly,

As his comrades around him fell?

A dollar, a coin or a pound,

It's a small price I pay,

As I take a poppy,

And start to walk away.

Thank you sir the old man say's.

With a voice that's strong and true,

And I turn and look in his eyes,

And say, No Sir... I thank you!