(Soldier's lament, France, World War One)
Go tell the sergeant major
Private Jones is dead
Shot in no man's land
Hanging grotesque upon the wire.
Go tell the sergeant major
All the brigade are dead
Machine-gunned in no man's land
Ordered by the General walk not run.
Go tell the sergeant major
Parading raw recruits in England
Fresh fodder for the killing
They need a coffin when they come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem