It was in the month of April in the year nineteen-fifteen
Amid the slaughter and the smoke at the Battle of Messines
Far off in Flanders blood-soaked fields the dead and dying lay
When young Robert Morrow from New Mills was the hero of the day.

He joined the Irish Fusiliers in the year of nineteen-ten
At the call-to-arms he sailed for France when the Empire needed men
A youthful lad of twenty-two, a stranger to all fear
Young Robert Morrow from New Mills proved a faithful comrade dear.

His daring heart was strong and true, all danger he did scorn
Proud of Ulster's fighting breed and the place where he was born
He rescued comrades from their death, refused to turn and flee
He then received his proud VC for selfless bravery.

Now we remember, full of pride, in the green fields of Tyrone
A hero who amazed the world and yet one of our own
The honours came from far and wide from Emperor and Tsar
He made the final sacrifice in Flanders fields afar.

But yet in history's faded lens he still remains a boy
A giant from a small town land, his family's pride and joy
And in the centuries to come there's one thing that is sure
Young Robert Morrow from New Mills in memory will endure.