A Butcher yes that was my trade
But the King’s shilling is now my fee
A butcher I may as well have stayed
For the slaughter that I see

And the preacher in his pulpit
Sermon, “Go and fight. Do what is right”
But he don’t have to hear those guns
And I bet he sleeps at night

And I can’t stop shaking
My hands won’t stop shaking
My arms won’t stop shaking
My mind won’t stop shaking
I want to go home,
Please let me go home,
Go home

And I have seen a friend of mine,
Hang on a wire like some rag toy
And in the heat the flies come down
And cover up the boy
And the flies come down in
Gommecourt, Thiepval,
Mametz Wood, and French Verdun
If the preacher he could see those flies
Wouldn’t preach for the sound of guns

And I can’t stop shaking
My hands won’t stop shaking
My arms won’t stop shaking
My mind won’t stop shaking
I want to go home
Please let me go home
Go home

Sent to kill, to watch no man’s land
Snipers are moving unseen
Fight for land, to lose it again
Shrapnel is filling the air

Hell on earth, the trenches mean death, better keep your head down low
Charge their lines, the ultimate test it’s a synchronized (sacrifice)

Get the wounded after dark
Left alone in no man’s land
Maddening chaos at the front

Dream of heaven
Angels are calling your name

Shells and guns, a rifle and scope
Bullets are wearing your name
Losing track of time and of space
Midnight at sanity’s edge

Losing friends to artillery shells, at the break of dawn
Break their will, as yours has been broken, they’re here alone, (dream of home)

Charge at dawn to gain a yard
Scout at night to guard their lines
Leave your life in fortune’s hand

Dream of heaven
Angels are calling your name

Hell on earth, the trenches mean death, keep your head down low
Charge their lines, the ultimate test it’s a synchronized (sacrifice)
When the bullet hits its mark
Know your time in hell has been served
You won’t return to home
Dream of heaven
Angels are calling your name
Calling you home

In a foreign field he lay
Lonely soldier, unknown grave
On his dying words he prays
Tell the world of Paschendale

Relive all that he’s been through
Last communion of his soul
Rust your bullets with his tears
Let me tell you ‘bout his years

Laying low in a blood filled trench
Kill time ’til my very own death
On my face I can feel the falling rain
Never see my friends again

In the smoke, in the mud and lead
Smell the fear and the feeling of dread
Soon be time to go over the wall
Rapid fire and end of us all

Whistles, shouts and more gun fire
Lifeless bodies hang on barbed wire
Battlefield nothing but a bloody tomb
Be reunited with my dead friends soon

Many soldiers eighteen years
Drown in mud, no more tears
Surely a war no-one can win
Killing time about to begin

Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again

The bodies of ours and our foes
The sea of death it overflows
In no man’s land, God only knows
Into jaws of death we go

Crucified as if on a cross
Allied troops they mourn their loss
German war propaganda machine
Such before has never been seen

Swear I heard the angels cry
Pray to god no more may die
So that people know the truth
Tell the tale of Paschendale

Cruelty has a human heart
Every man does play his part
Terror of the men we kill
The human heart is hungry still

I stand my ground for the very last time
Gun is ready as I stand in line
Nervous wait for the whistle to blow
Rush of blood and over we go

Blood is falling like the rain
Its crimson cloak unveils again
The sound of guns can’t hide their shame
And so we die on Paschendale

Dodging shrapnel and barbed wire
Running straight at cannon fire
Running blind as I hold my breath
Say a prayer symphony of death

As we charge the enemy lines
A burst of fire and we go down
I choke a cry but no-one hears
Feel the blood go down my throat

Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again

Home, far away
From the war, a chance to live again
Home, far away
But the war, no chance to live again

See my spirit on the wind
Across the lines, beyond the hill
Friend and foe will meet again
Those who died at Paschendale

Hear the sound of a machine gun
Hear it echo in the night
Mortals firing rains the scene
Scars the fields
That once were green

It’s a stalemate at the front line
Where the soldiers rest in mud
Roads and houses
All is gone
There is no glory to be won

Know that many men will suffer
Know that many men will die
Half a million lives at stake
Ask the fields of Passchendaele

And as the night falls the general calls
And the battle carries on and on
How long?
What is the purpose of it all
What’s the price of a mile?

Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men’s lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out

Thousands of machineguns
Kept on firing through the night
Mortars blazed and wrecked the scene
Guns in the fields that once were green

Still a deadlock at the front line
Where the soldiers die in mud
Roads and houses since long gone
Still no glory has been won
Know that many men has suffered
Know that many men has died

Six miles of ground has been won
Half a million men are gone
And as the men crawled the general called
And the killing carried on and on
How long?
What’s the purpose of it all?
What’s the price of a mile?

Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men’s lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out

Young men are dying
They pay the price
Oh how they suffer
So tell me what’s the price of a mile

That’s the price of a mile.

Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men’s lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in the trench with no way out

300 Yards of Ground

Five miles of shell holes wide
Soaked to the bone & mud to the knees, I grieve, I confide
No blade of grass or a tree
But a desolate hell of a place there’d once been
We dig ourselves in, hitting ground with artillery

At twenty past five to the tee
With a roar that tore at the seething ground
Some 3000 guns opened up all around
But the barrage was ours and our own guns took our men down

Any man who shows his head, will be shot down
For 300 yards of ground…

Making a rush for the hill, the gunners of theirs were shooting still
And the wire between them and us, it was fifty yards wide
Dozens hung up in the wire, were shot down

Any man who shows his head, will be shot down
For 300 yards of ground…

The light of the day showed the cost
What was left of us realised the day was lost

i am the only one that got through
the others died where ever they fell
it was an ambush
they came up from all sides
give your leaders each a gun and then let them fight it out themselves
i’ve seen devils coming up from the ground
i’ve seen hell upon this earth
the next will be chemical but they will never learn

Going home
Going home
Oh the dark night is over now
I’m going home
To the land I love
To the land I love
And the one girl who waits for me
I’m going home
I will cross the sea
I will cross the sea
I am going home forever
I’m going home
Going home
Going home
Going home

Remember boy that your forefather’s died
Lost in millions for a country’s pride
Never mention the trenches of Belgium
When they stopped fightin and they were one
A spirit stronger than war was at work that night
December 1914 cold, clear and bright
Countries’ borders were right out of sight
They joined together and decided not to fight
All together now, all together now
All together now in no man’s land (together)
All together now (all together), all together now (all together)
All together now (together, together)
In no man’s land (together, together)
The same old story again
All those tears shed in vain
Nothin learnt and nothin gained
Only hope remains
All together now, all together now
All together now in no man’s land (together)
All together now (all together), all together now (all together)
All together now in no man’s land (together)
All together now (all together now), all together now (all together now)
All together now (together, together)
In no man’s land (together, together)
The boys had their say, they said no (all together now)
Stop the slaughter, let’s go home
Let’s go, let’s go (all together now)
Let’s go (all together now), let’s go home
All together now (together, together)
In no man’s land (together, together)
All together now (all together now), all together now (all together)
All together now (together, together)
In no man’s land (together, together)

I light a candle to our love
In love, our problems disappear
But all in all, we soon discover
That one and one is all we long to hear

All ‘round the world
Little children being born to the world
Got to give ‘em all we can till the war is won
Then will the work be done

Help them to learn (help them to learn)
Songs of joy instead of burn, baby, burn (burn, baby, burn)
Let us show them how to play
The pipes of peace
Play the pipes of peace

Help me to learn
Songs of joy instead of burn, baby, burn
Won’t you show me how to play (how to play)
The pipes of peace (pipes of peace)
Play the pipes of peace
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

What do you say? (What do you say?)
Will the human race be run in a day (in a day)
Or will someone save this planet we’re playing on?
(Is it the only one?)
What are we gonna do?

Help them to see (help them to see)
That the people here are like you and me (like you and me)
Let us show them how to play (how to play)
The pipes of peace (Pipes of peace)
Play the pipes of peace
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

I light a candle to our love
In love, our problems disappear
But all in all, we soon discover
That one and one is all we long to hear

One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox johnny sang
About a thing called love
And its how are you kid and whats your name
And how would you bloody know?
In blood and death neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me

And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
For a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While Ray and Philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking
A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing

And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
A rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
For a pair of brown eyes
For a pair of brown eyes

And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
And a rovin, a rovin, a rovin I’ll go
For a pair of brown eyes
For a pair of brown eyes

De Centrale Mogendheden wilden Servië veroveren om een rechtstreekse spoorverbinding tussen het Duitse Keizerrijk en het Ottomaanse Rijk mogelijk te maken. Hierdoor zouden de Duitsers materieel en troepen kunnen sturen om de Ottomanen te helpen.

Tegen het begin van 1915 hadden de Serviërs twee Oostenrijks-Hongaarse aanvallen afgeslagen. De Oostenrijks-Hongaarse troepen hadden honderden Servische burgers willekeurig vermoord en er werd ook op grote schaal verkracht.

Op 6 september 1915 konden de Centralen het Koninkrijk Bulgarije overtuigen (in ruil voor een forse gebiedsuitbreiding) om Servië de oorlog te verklaren. En zo drongen, op 14 oktober, Bulgaarse legers Servië binnen; Bulgarije en Servië verklaarden elkaar wederzijds de oorlog. De dag daarop kreeg Bulgarije een oorlogsverklaring van Montenegro en Groot-Brittannië. Een dag later volgde Frankrijk, nog eens drie dagen later Rusland en Italië.

Ondanks alle diplomatieke druk bevestigt buurland Roemenië dat het Servië niet ter hulp zal komen, net zo min als Griekenland. Groot-Brittannië en Frankrijk sturen wel hulp maar te laat te weinig: twee divisies die niet verder kwamen dan het Griekse Thessaloniki.

Het Servische leger, slechts 255.000 man sterk en slecht uitgerust, stond dus alleen tegen een overmacht gevormd door het Bulgaarse Eerste Leger, het Duitse Elfde Leger en het Oostenrijks-Hongaarse Derde Leger.

Toen de Duitse en Oostenrijks-Hongaarse troepen op 7 oktober 1915 (na een zware tweedaagse artilleriebarrage) Belgrado aanvielen, voerde majoor Gavrilović het bevel over het 2e bataljon van het 10e Infanterieregiment dat posities verdedigde aan de samenvloeiing van Sava en Donau. De Serviërs hielden de indringers in de val tegen de Donau al waren er aan beide zijden zware verliezen. De Servische positie werd echter onhoudbaar, er bleven maar Oostenrijks-Hongaarse versterkingen komen en hun artillerie was superieur. Het laatste Servische verzet had plaats voor de kafana “Jasenica”. De soldaten namen bloemen uit een kleine bloemenwinkel, staken die op hun jassen en geweren terwijl ze zich voorbereidden op een laatste aanval met een zekere dood. Voordat hij hen in een tegenaanval gooide, hield majoor Gavrilović zijn beroemde toespraak.

De tegenaanval faalde. Na hevige straatgevechten werden de Serviërs op 9 oktober uit hun hoofdstad verdreven.

Nadat Belgrado was ingenomen, bouwden de Duitsers een “Duitse Heldenbegraafplaats” op de Banovo-berg, de strategische hoogten ten zuidwesten van Belgrado die de Servische troepen zo bitter hadden. Ongeveer 2.600 soldaten zouden hier hun laatste rustplaats hebben gevonden. Op bevel van de Duitse commandant von Mackensen werd er, als teken van eerbied voor de oorlogstegenstanders, ook een monument (kubieke steen met een kruis) opgericht met ​​de inscriptie in het Duits en Servisch “Hier rusten Servische helden”.

Na een wanhopige offensief om contact te maken met de twee geallieerde divisies in Thessaloniki besliste de Servische generaal Radomir Putnik de algehele terugtocht door Montenegro en Albanië. Het weer was verschrikkelijk, de wegen slecht, en het leger moest de tienduizenden vluchtelingen die met hen meegingen, helpen met hun laatste voorraden.

De Serviërs bereikten de Adriatische kust omdat de Centralen niet de moeite deden om een groot offensief op te zetten. Geallieerde transportschepen vervoerden hen naar het Griekse eiland Korfoe, in afwachting van een verplaatsing naar Thessaloniki. De evacuatie werd op 10 februari afgerond. De overlevenden waren zodanig verzwakt dat velen van uitputting stierven, weken na hun redding.

Geheel Servië, Macedonië, Montenegro en Albanië werden door de Centralen bezet tot de finale geallieerde overwinning in 1918.

Het koninkrijk Servië heeft circa 1.100.000 inwoners verloren tijdens deze oorlog, dit was meer dan 27% van de totale bevolking.

War begun, the kaiser has come
Day or night, the shells keep falling
Overrun, but never outdone
Street to street, denying defeat

Soldiers of the serbian army
keep your heads held high
Overrun, you fall one by one
For Belgrade and the Fatherland

Soldiers, heroes, die for your land
Your lives are gone, erased by your command

Until your last dying breath

Overrun, you’re under the gun
Day or night, the shells kept falling
Sound the drum, the great war has come
Show no fear, the ending is near

A final charge, to face the fire
falling one by one
Major calls, the white city falls
Belgrade’s streets are stained by blood

In haste, our lives are erased
Forward to glory for king and country

Defend the honour of Belgrade
Forward to glory, to face your fate at last

Oh how do you do, young Willie McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And rest for a while in the warm summer sun
I’ve been walking all day, and I’m nearly done

And I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen in 1916
Well, I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean
Oh Willie McBride, was is it slow and obscene?

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart you’re forever nineteen

Or are you a stranger without even a name?
Forever enshrined behind some old glass pane
In an old photograph torn, tattered, and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

The sun shining down on these green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished long under the plow
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now

But here in this graveyard that’s still no man’s land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man’s blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation were butchered and damned

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

And I can’t help but wonder, oh Willie McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?

Well, the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh Willie McBride, it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

Did they beat the drums slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post and chorus?
Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

In 1914 controleerde het Ottomaanse Rijk (nu Turkije) de Dardanellen (Hellespont), de zeestraat tussen Europa en Klein-Azië. De Turken hadden zich bij Duitsland aangesloten omdat ze de samenwerking van de Britten met hun buur Rusland wantrouwden. Daarop had Rusland het Ottomaanse Rijk de oorlog verklaard.

De Dardanellen was voor de Britten van strategisch belang: controle over de zeestraat betekende een goede doorgang naar hun bondgenoot Rusland (van de Middellandse Zee naar de Zwarte Zee). Er kwam dus een gezamenlijke Britse en Franse operatie om Istanboel te veroveren en de zeeroute naar Rusland veilig te stellen. De Dardanellenveldtocht vond plaats op het schiereiland Gallipoli (Europese gedeelte van Turkije).

De Britse minister van oorlog, Lord Kitchener, verwachtte dat de Turken zo zouden schrikken van zijn Britse vloot dat ze op de vlucht zouden slaan.

Het liep helemaal anders. De veldtocht bleek een dramatische vergissing. De Ottomaanse legers (die bovendien hulp kregen van de Duitsers) werden onderschat en de Britse bevelhebber, generaal Hamilton, had geen kennis van de geografie en het klimaat die verdedigers sterk bevoordeelden : de bergkammen van Gallipoli vormden een natuurlijke verdedigingslinie.

Op 18 maart 1915 vielen de Britten aan met achttien slagschepen, deze werden door de Turken verwelkomd met granaten en mijnen, waarop de actie werd afgeblazen.

Op 23 april kwam de grote aanval: op verschillende plekken werden militairen afgezet van Britse, Franse troepen en de ANZAC, de gezamenlijke legereenheid van Australië en Nieuw-Zeeland. De Turkse militairen stonden de geallieerden daar op te wachten. Ondanks die tegenstand bleven de geallieerden maandenlang proberen Turkije binnen te trekken, maar de troepen kwamen meestal niet verder dan het strand.

Zelfs na de herhaaldelijke verzoeken van generaal Hamilton weigerde Lord Kitchener zijn troepen terug te trekken en toen Hamilton het helemaal niet meer zag zitten werd hij vervangen door generaal Monroe. Toen deze geen versterkingen kon krijgen, wilde ook hij zich terugtrekken. Pas nadat Kitchener zelf het slagveld had bezocht, besloot ook hij dat het beter was de troepen terug te trekken. Dat gebeurde eind 1915 in het geheim. Op 9 januari 1916 was de terugtrekking helemaal voltooid.

Aan beide kanten had men circa 250.000 mannen verloren. Voor de geallieerden was de Slag om Gallipoli uitgemond in één van de grootste nederlagen van de Eerste Wereldoorlog.

Tijdens het verzet van de Turken speelde Mustafa Kemal Atatürk een belangrijke rol als aanvoerder van de Turkse reservetroepen. Hij hield onder meer de ANZAC tegen toen die al tamelijk ver landinwaarts waren getrokken. Atatürk richtte in 1923 de moderne staat Turkije op en was tot zijn dood in 1938 president.

Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack, and I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback, well, I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in 1915, my country said son, It’s time you stopped rambling, there’s work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun, and they marched me away to the war

And the band played Waltzing Matilda, as the ship pulled away from the quay
And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears, we sailed off for Gallipoli
And how well I remember that terrible day, how our blood stained the sand and the water
And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay, we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was waiting, he’d primed himself well. He shower’d us with bullets
And he rained us with shell. And in five minutes flat, he’d blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, when we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, then we started all over again
And those that were left, well we tried to survive, in that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive, though around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head, and when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead. Never knew there was worse things than dyin’

For I’ll go no more waltzing Matilda, all around the green bush far and free
To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs-no more waltzing Matilda for me
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed, and they shipped us back home to Australia
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane, those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay, I looked at the place where me legs used to be
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me, to grieve, to mourn, and to pity

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, as they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared, then they turned all their faces away
And so now every April, I sit on me porch, and I watch the parades pass before me
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march, reviving old dreams of past glories
And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore. They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, what are they marching for? And I ask myself the same question

But the band plays Waltzing Matilda, and the old men still answer the call
But as year follows year, more old men disappear. Someday no one will march there at all
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong, who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

The scent of Thyme carried on the wind,
stings your face into remembering
cruel nature has won again.
On Battleship Hill’s caved in trenches,
a hateful feeling still lingers,
even now, 80 years later.
Cruel nature.
Cruel, cruel nature.
The land returns to how it has always been.
The scent of Thyme carried on the wind.
Jagged mountains, jutting out,
cracked like teeth in a rotten mouth.
On Battleship Hill I hear the wind,
Say “Cruel nature has won again.”

Hear them whisper
Voices from the other side
Hear them calling

Former foes now friends are resting side by side
They will never leave
Our hearts or fade away
Live forever

They were far to young to die in such a way
How many wasted lives
How many dreams did fade away
Broken promises they won’t be coming home

Oh mothers wipe your tears
Your sons will rest a million years
Found their peace at last
As foe turned to friend and forgive

And they knew they’d die
Gallipoli
Left their letters in the sand
Such waste of life

Gallipoli
Dreams of freedom turned to dust
Hell is waiting where the ocean meets the sand

Cliffs of burden
Where the soldiers rushed into a certain death
At the shoreline
Blood of heroes stains the land light a candle

One for each of them who fought and died in vain
There is no enemy
There is no victory
Only boys who lost their lives in the sand
Young men were sacrificed

Their names are carved in stone and kept alive
And forever we will honour the memory of them
And they knew they would die
Gallipoli
Left their letters in the sand

Such waste of life
Gallipoli
Dreams of freedom turned to dust
How many wasted lives
How many dreams did fade away

Broken promises
They won’t be coming home
Oh mothers wipe your tears
Your sons will rest a million years

Found their peace at last
As foe turned to friend and forgive
And they knew they would die
Gallipoli

Left their letters in the sand
Such waste of life
Gallipoli
Dreams of freedom turned to dust.

16 years old when I went to the war
To fight for a land fit for heroes
God on my side and a gun in my hand
Chasing my days down to zero
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died
And I never did get any older
But I knew at the time that a year in the line
Was a long enough life for a soldier

We all volunteered and we wrote down our names
And we added two years to our ages
Eager for life and ahead of the game
Ready for history’s pages
And we brawled and we fought and we whored ’til we stood
Ten thousand shoulder to shoulder
A thirst for the Hun, we were food for the gun
And that’s what you are when you’re soldiers

I heard my friend cry and he sank to his knees
Coughing blood as he screamed for his mother
And I fell by his side and that’s how we died
Clinging like kids to each other
And I lay in the mud and the guts and the blood
And I wept as his body grew colder
And I called for my mother and she never came
Though it wasn’t my fault and I wasn’t to blame
The day not half over and ten thousand slain
And now there’s nobody remembers our names
And that’s how it is for a soldier

’t is jaren da’k zegge ‘k ga d’r een liedje van zingen
maar wie zingt er nu liedjes van zo’n droevige dingen
lijk in lauwe ’t duits kerkhof rondom in de bomen
da’k er nu achter jaren nog luidop sta van te dromen
’t schoonste plekske van lauwe ’t was daar
en w’ hèn der gespeeld en gerotst “t is echt waar
we liepen zig-zag tussen de graven rond
of lagen verdoken onzen buik op de grond
moeder hèt ton dikwijls van ’n oorlog verteld
en als we daar speelden hèm de kruiskes geteld
van heinrich en werner ‘k zie de namen nog staan
uit duitsland gekomen om alhier dood te gaan
z’ hèn ’t kerkhof verkaveld en villa’s gebouwd
d’r is lange genoeg om dien oorlog gerouwd
de doo’n weggemoffeld al thoop op nen hoop
ach jezus ook heinrich en werner ook
ze waren daar pertang op de kinders gesteld
lijk de zondag in ’n zomer hèn z’ons voetjes geteld
en g’ hort naar ’t zingen en ’t waaien van de bomen
en ’s winters alleene van thuis liggen dromen

In ‘t praetbos buiten vladslo,
van god en mens verlaten,
ligt de jonge peter kollwitz,
in een massagraf van soldaten
en ik ken geen vrediger wereld,
van roerlozer bomen,
geen schoner kathedrale,
om te bidden en om te dromen.
je mag er ook nootjes rapen,
of stilletjes mediteren,
als z’op uw rechterkake slaan
moe’j de linker ook presenteren,
daar komen soms kinders spelen
en geliefden heel teder vrijen,
want ‘t mos is daar zo zacht,
om te slapen en om te schreien.
schaam je maar niet om je tranen,
je mag daar ook nereknielen,
en prevel de dode namen
van de dertigduizend zielen,
ze kwamen uit duitsland de moeders
en de vaders in grote getallen,
om zwijgend ‘t hoofd te schudden,
‘ach mein kind ist hier gefallen.’
voor al dat nutteloos sterven,
al dat afgeknakt jong leven,
waar is die god van den hemel,
die ons hier vrede kan geven,
waar zijn nu de dwaze officieren,
al die leugens zo lelijk gelogen,
niets dan versteende vaders
en moeders diepe gebogen.
in ‘t praetbos buiten vladslo,
op dat massagraf van soldaten,
staan nu käthe kollwitz’s beelden,
van god en mens verlaten
en ik ken geen heviger wereld,
geen menselijker bede,
dan die twee donkere stenen,
die zo diepe schreien om vrede

Als ge van ze leven in de westhoek passeert
Deur regen en noorderwinden
Keert onze den tijd als g’ alhier passeert
Den oorlog ga j’ hier were vindenJa ’t is den oorlog da ‘j hier were vindt
En ’t graf van duizend soldaten
Altijd iemands vader altijd iemands kind
Nu doodstil en godverlatenLaat de bomen nu maar zwijgen en dat ’t gras niets verteld
En de wind moet ’t ook maar nie zingen
Dat julder’n dood tot niets hè geteld
Dat waren al te schik’lijke dingenZeg ’t gaat al goed der is welvaart in ’t land
En de vrede ligt vast in de wetten
We maken wel wapens maar met veel meer verstand
Maar just om den oorlog te belettenEn grote raketten atoom in den top
We meugen toch experimenteren
We mikken wel ne keer naar mekaar zijne kop
Maar just om ons ’t amuserenAls ge van ze leven in de westhoek passeert
Deur regen en noorderwinden
Keert omme den tijd als g’ alhier passeert
Den oorlog ga j’ hier were vindenJa ’t is den oorlog da ‘j hier were vindt
En ’t graf van duizend soldaten
Altijd iemands vader altijd iemands kind
Duizend en duizend soldaten (3x)

Depuis que l’homme écrit l’Histoire,
Depuis qu’il bataille à coeur joie
Entre mille et une guerr’s notoires,
Si j’étais t’nu de faire un choix,
A l’encontre du vieil Homère,
Je déclarerais tout de suit’ :
“Moi, mon colon, cell’ que j’préfère,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !”
Est-ce à dire que je méprise
Les nobles guerres de jadis,
Que je m’ souci’ comm’ d’un’ cerise
De celle de soixante-dix ?
Au contrair’, je la révère
Et lui donne un satisfecit,
Mais, mon colon, cell’ que j’préfère,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !
Je sais que les guerriers de Sparte
Plantaient pas leurs epé’s dans l’eau,
Que les grognards de Bonaparte
Tiraient pas leur poudre aux moineaux…
Leurs faits d’armes sont légendaires,
Au garde-à-vous, j’les félicit’,
Mais, mon colon, cell’ que j’préfère,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !
Bien sûr, celle de l’an quarante
Ne m’a pas tout à fait déçu,
Elle fut longue et massacrante
Et je ne crache pas dessus,
Mais à mon sens, ell’ ne vaut guère,
Guèr’ plus qu’un premier accessit,
Moi, mon colon, cell’ que j’préfère,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !
Mon but n’est pas de chercher noise
Aux guérillas, non, fichtre ! non,
Guerres saintes, guerres sournoises
Qui n’osent pas dire leur nom,
Chacune a quelque chos’ pour plaire,
Chacune a son petit mérit’,
Mais, mon colon, cell’ que j’préfère,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !
Du fond de son sac à malices,
Mars va sans doute, à l’occasion,
En sortir une – un vrai délice ! –
Qui me fera grosse impression…
En attendant, je persévère
A dir’ que ma guerr’ favorit’
Cell’, mon colon, que j’voudrais faire,
C’est la guerr’ de quatorz’-dix-huit !

Sous les drapeaux, y a des tombes
Et des noms gravés
En souvenir des hécatombes
Des tas d’ fleurs fanéesSous les drapeaux, y a des foules
Qui hurlent à la mort
À coups d’ ballon, à coups d’ boule
“C’est nous les plus forts!”Mais moi, j’aime par-dessus tout
Un drapeau de rien du tout
Qui s’ dresse tout seul dans les blés
Sans que l’ clairon l’ait sonnéLe bleuet, la marguerite et le coquelicotC’est des p’tites fleurs franchouillardes
Même le Maréchal
S’en servait pour ses cocardes
C’est ça qui m’ fait malQue voulez-vous que j’ réponde?
Ces petites fleurs-là
Elles sont d’abord à tout le monde
N’oubliez pas ça!Mais moi, j’aime par-dessus tout
Un drapeau de rien du tout
Qui s’ dresse tout seul dans les blés
Sans que l’ clairon l’ait sonnéLe bleuet, la marguerite et le coquelicotÉpinglé au revers tendre
D’un amour nouveau
Le bleuet vient pour t’apprendre
Que le monde est beauLa marguerite est une reine
En peau de chagrin
En l’effeuillant, on s’entraîne
À souffrir demainMais moi, j’aime par-dessus tout
Un drapeau de rien du tout
Qui s’ dresse tout seul dans les blés
Sans que l’ clairon l’ait sonnéLe bleuet, la marguerite et le coquelicotTrois gouttes de sang, c’est le drame
Amour, jalousie
Gentil coquelicot, Mesdames
Faut payer le prixDebout sur des barricades
Toujours à refaire
Rouge cœur de la grenade
Au nez d’ la misèreMais moi, j’aime par-dessus tout
Un drapeau de rien du tout
Qui s’ dresse tout seul dans les blés
Sans que l’ clairon l’ait sonnéLe bleuet, la marguerite et le coquelicot

Er zijn soldaten uit Beverlo vertrokken.
Ze zijn als beesten naar ’t front gedreven.
Ze zijn als beesten naar ’t front gedreven,
naar ’t schaamteloos kerkhof van onze jeugd.

’t Was in de winter, het ijs lag op de vlakte.
Mijn beide voeten zijn er bevroren.
Mijn beide voeten zijn er bevroren,
ik werd vervoerd naar een hospitaal.

Laat ons feesten, om ter meesten, dierelomleine, dierelomla.

Mijn beide voeten heeft men mij afgenomen.
Twee houten krukken heb ‘k gekregen.
Twee houten krukken heb ‘k gekregen,
en ‘k werd naar het ouderhuis gestuurd.

Laat ons feesten….

Men heeft mij ook nog een staatspensioen gegeven,
van een paar centen, te weinig om te leven.
Zo word ik nu naar de bedelstaf gedreven
om niet te kreperen van hongersnood.

Laat ons feesten….

Ik heb door tal van landen gezworven,
en af en toe wat medelij verworven,
maar de patroons voor wier geld ik heb gevochten
gaven me geen cent toen ik er om vroeg.
Maar de patroons voor wier geld ik heb gevochten
gaven me geen cent toen ik er om vroeg.

Laat ons feesten….

Bodies fill the fields I see, hungry heroes end
No one to play soldier now, no one to pretend
Running blind through killing fields, bred to kill them all
Victim of what said should be
A servant ’til I fallSoldier boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to kill, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the front
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the front
You will die when I say, you must die
Back to the front
You coward
You servant
You blind man

Barking of machine gun fire, does nothing to me now
Sounding of the clock that ticks, get used to it somehow
More a man, more stripes you bare, glory seeker trends
Bodies fill the fields I see
The slaughter never ends

Soldier boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to kill, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the front
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the front
You will die when I say, you must die
Back to the front
You coward
You servant
You blind man

Why, am I dying?
Kill, have no fear
Lie, live off lying
Hell, hell is here

Why, am I dying?
Kill, have no fear
Lie, live off lying
Hell, hell is here
I was born for dying

Life planned out before my birth, nothing could I say
Had no chance to see myself, molded day by day
Looking back I realize, nothing have I done
Left to die with only friend
Alone I clench my gun

Soldier boy, made of clay
Now an empty shell
Twenty one, only son
But he served us well
Bred to kill, not to care
Do just as we say
Finished here, greetings death
He’s yours to take away

Back to the front
You will do what I say, when I say
Back to the front
You will die when I say, you must die
Back to the front
You coward
You servant
You blind man

Back to the front
Back to the front
Back to the front
Back to the front
Back to the front

The strange young man who comes to me
A soldier on a three day spree
Who needs one night’s cheap ecstasy
And a woman’s arms to hide him
He greets me with a courtly bow
And hides his pain by acting proud
He drinks too much and he laughs too loud
How can I deny him?

Let us dance beneath the moon
I’ll sing to you “Claire de Lune’
The morning always comes too soon
But tonight the war is over

He speaks to me in schoolboy French
Of a soldier’s life inside a trench
Of the look of death and the ghastly stench
I do my best to please him

He puts two roses in a vase
Two roses sadly out of place
Like the gallant smile on his haggard face
Playfully I tease him

Hold me ‘neath the Paris skies
Let’s not talk of how or why
Tomorrow’s soon enough to die
But tonight the war is over

We make love too hard too fast
He falls asleep, his face a mask
He wakes with the shakes and he drinks from his flask
I put my arms around him

They die in the trenches and they die in the air
In Belgium and France the dead are everywhere
They die so fast there’s no time to prepare
A decent grave to surround them

Old world glory, old world fame
The old world’s gone, gone up in flames
Nothing will ever be the same
And nothing lasts forever

Oh I’d pray for him but I’ve forgotten how
And there’s nothing, nothing that can save him now
There’s always another with the same funny bow
And who am I to deny them

Lux aeterna Luce-at e-is domine cum
Sanctic tu-is in aeternum
Qui-a pius es requiem aeternaum
Dona e-is Domine.

Qui-a pius es requiem aeternaum
Dona e-is Domine
Qui-a pius es et lux perpetua luce-at- e-is Cum
Sancris tu-is in
Aeternum qui-api-us es
Tonight the war is over…