| 1915 on Christmas Day
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| On the western front the guns all died away
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| And lying in the mud on bags of sand
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| We heard a German sing from no man’s land
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| He had tenor voice so pure and true
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| The words were strange but every note we knew
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| Soaring or the the living dead and dammed
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| The German sang of peace from no man’s land
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| They left their trenches and we left ours
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| Beneath tin hats smiles bloomed like wild flowers
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| With photos, cigarettes, and pots of wine
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| We bult a soldier’s truce on the front line
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| Their singer was a lad of 21
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| We begged another song before the dawn
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| And sitting in the mud and blood and fear
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| He sang again the song all longed to hear
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| Silent night, no cannons roar
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| A king is born of peace for evermore
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| All’s calm, all’s bright
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| All brothers hand in hand
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| In 19 and 15 in no man’s land
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| And in the morning all the guns boomed in the rain
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| And we killed them and they killed us again
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| At night they charged we fought them hand to hand
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| And I killed the boy that sang in no man’s land
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| Silent night no cannons roar
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| A king is born of peace for evermore
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| All’s calm, all’s bright
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| All brothers hand in hand
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| And that young soldier sings
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| And the song of peace still rings
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| Though the captains and all the kings
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| Built no man’s land |