If all the grasses are yellownThen what color are the tearsnThat are shed for all the young fellowsnIn the armies along the frontiersnnIf all the grasses are purplenThen what color is the skynUnder which young men are marchingnFor none know the reason whynnOnce you dressed in the colors of flowersnNow you dress in blacknAnd look out your window for hoursnFor the men to come marching backnnWell what if the poppies are orange?nAnd what if roses are red?nWhat cares a girl for flowersnWhen the one she loves is dead?nnIf all the rivers are goldennSilver, the color of rainnWhen shall a maid and her soldiernFeel lovers' warmth again?nnFor what does it matternIf October leaves are brownnIf your love since last SeptembernHas been sleeping 'neath the groundnnIf all the grasses are yellownThen what color are the tearsnThat are shed for all the young fellowsnIn the armies along the frontiers