Draped over the trench, a bloated and sickening corpse Staring down from above with its leering vacant eyes Its mouth slightly ajar, perhaps in a mocking smirk Its skin seems alive with a hundred flies
For a while the war is forgotten As I ponder this ghastly sight Am I accustomed to this horror? Should it still cause me to fright?
His uniform is German, my rifle sights have spotted many Not for want has my bolt hit home, my trigger squeezed asunder They are no personal enemy of mine, the German Private soldier I've shared a beer with one back home in simpler times Down Under
So i feel I must write to the parents of this Soldier Give him a proper funeral, for his honour as well as mine Tell them I knew him not but felt sad for this grinning corpse And mark a map where he was buried within the Australian linesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
