There is peas, there is beans, there is carrots too,
There is rich steak, pud, and Irish Stew,
There is cocoa, tea and milk to drink,
There is herring good and salmon pink,
In some you will find there is Christmas fare,
Rich puddings filled with spices rare,
Or perhaps roast fowl in jelly thick,
And tasty fruits, the season's pick,
Some tins you'll find are met with scorn,
And round the camp for swops are borne,
Tomato juice oft meets this fate,
Or Marmite's luscious concentrate,
But to the man who is really wise,
‘Tis not in bulk that value lies,
For back in England they agreed,
‘Tis vitamins our prisoners need,
So when your parcels you receive,
Don't let the size of things deceive,
For oft in life small things are best,
If doubtful, put it to the test.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
From this I learned something: the Red Cross maintained a neutral stance and conveyed packages between England and Germany. Amazing that this vestige of civilized conduct persisted while armies were unleashing death at each other. The tone is light-hearted, but these men needed nutrition, and more than that they needed the tie to loved ones.