Guest
Nicole Heesters - Der Graben 1985 (von Kurt Tucholsky, 1890 - 1935) THE TRENCHES Mother, for what did you raise your son? Why did you struggle with him twenty years? Why was it to you he would always run And quietly he'd whisper in your ear? Till the day they came and took him away... For the trenches, mother, for the trenches. Young man, can you still remember Dad? How he'd take you on his shoulder for a ride? How he'd always have a penny for his lad And count to ninety-nine while you would hide? Till the day they came and took him away... For the trenches, young man, for the trenches. Don't be so proud of your scars and medals, Don't be proud about glory days gone by. You were sent to the trenches by the ogres, The envy of industry, the madness of the state. You were good enough as carrion for the crows, For the trenches, comrades, for the trenches. Think of the moans and the rattle
