In the fields of France
We took a glance
Waiting for the German Horde
Passing the time
Watching their lines
No time to get Bored
Here they come
Those Barbarous Huns
Opening the gates of hell
Behind an earthen wall
We waited for the call
Hearing their screams and yells
Their machine guns go pop, pop, pop
As we climbed over the top
And into hells throes
As we fell to the ground
Death was all around
So we now know
That no one ever really dies
Even as their soul touches the skies
As long as their story goes
But when their story dies
And they still there lie
No one ever knows
Of who they were
Or what they did
Life secrets now well hid
As another story comes and goes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem