Auschwitz, “arbeit Macht Frei” (Work Will Make You Free) Poem by Padraic Neary

Clickedy clack, clickedy clack,
trains are rumbling down the track;
so many came, so few went back,
clickedy clack, clickedy clack.

A sign of hope was overhead
work will make you free it said,
free to live in fear and dread;
to be free here you must be dead.

Of vermin Jew in every sphere,
the Arian bloodlines will be clear,
for too long they cost us dear;
Final Solution time is here.

Round them up in every land
conquered by the iron hand;
Zion’s fate is fully planned.
Posterity will understand.

Seperate them, herr and dame,
do not worry whence they came;
those who help, are they to blame?
Matters not, their fate’s the same.

Strip them naked, shave their hair,
very soon they will not care;
pile their shoes up over there
one day the world will come and stare.

Zyklon B will lay them low,
see how bright real bone fires glow,
up the chimney stack they go,
fall to earth like flakes of snow.

This silent place is of the dead,
no birds, they say, fly overhead.
Skeletal chimneys mark instead
where civilisation once was led.

Hear no more the clickedy clack,
empty watch tower, empty track.
You who look forward, please look back;
never forget the chimney stack.