Twas Christmas In The Trenches
The name is Francis Tolliver. I come from Liverpool. Two years ago the war was waiting For me after school. To Belgium and to Flanders, To Germany to here; I fought for King and country, I love dear. Twas Christmas in the trenches Where the frost so bitter hung. The frozen fields of France were cold No Christmas songs were sung. When across the line of battle, Each soldier strained to hear As one young German voice sang out so clear. He's singing bloody well ya know, A soldier said to me. Soon one by one each German voice Joined in in harmony. The cannons rested silent, And the gas cloud rolled no more As Christmas won us respite from the war. Twas Christmas in the trenches Where the frost so bitter hung. The frozen fields of France had thawed A Christmas song was sung. The next they sang was Stillenacht. Tis Silent Night says I, And in two tongues one song filled up that sky. There's someone coming towards us, The front line sentry cried. All sights were fixed on one lone figure Trudging from the side. His truce flag like a Christmas star - Shone up the Plain so bright, As he bravely strode unarmed into the night. Then one by one from either side Walked into no-man's land. With neither gun nor bayonet We met there hand-to-hand. We shared some secret brandy, And we wished each other well. And in a flare lit soccer game we gave 'em hell. Twas Christmas in the trenches Where the frost so bitter hung. The frozen fields of France were warm As Christmas songs were sung. We traded chocolate, cigarettes, and Photographs from home Of families spending Christmas all alone. Then daylight stole upon us And France was France once more. With sad farewells we each prepared To settle back to war. But the question haunting every knight Who lived that wondrous night. Whose family have I fixed within my sight? Twas Christmas in the trenches Where the frost so bitter hung. The frozen fields of France were warmed As songs of peace were sung. For the walls they built between us, To exact the wrath of war, Had been crumbled and forgot, forevermore. Oh my name is Francis Tolliver. In Liverpool I dwell. Each Christmas come since WWI I learnt its lesson well. That the ones who call the shots won't be Among the dead and maimed. And on each end of the rifle, we're the same.
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