Lingua   

1915

Saul Blease
Lingua: Inglese




We the Old Contemptible few
drinking char then we stand to
Digging in behind the bags

Trenches stretch across the land
In Flanders mud we stand
In the pink behind the bags

Hunkered down behind the wire
bumped by Hun artillery fire
In a funk behind the bags

From the posts barb wire strung
no-mans land the bodies hung
Just napoo behind the bags

Sunset on the western front
once more the evening hate
A thousand guns now taunt us
there’s no escape from our fate

Direct hit, no body remains
just fragments of bone an’ skin
Brass hats will be sending out
telegram for the next of kin

Does an angel float above us?
Can’t see through the shot and shell
As the world tears up around us
Why would an angel visit Hell?

Does an angel float above us?
Can’t see through the shot and shell
As the world tears up around us
Why would an angel visit Hell?


Hear the hoots early morning
Bob-man calls out the warning
(Gas, gas comes the shout!)

Floundering in a green sea
fumble my mask to save me
(Gas, gas spreads all about!)

Someone yelling, going down
on dry land begins to drown
(Gas, gas, thick green light)

Spewing cud gasping breath
another here is touched by death
(Gas, gas into the dark night)


They said to die for England here
is something sweet and right
Watching Tommy spew his guts out
no, dying’s not a glorious sight

They said it'd be over soon
that we’d be home by Christmas day
Dying here in a gas-filled trench
is that really what they say?



Pagina principale CCG

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