
Date of issue: 26.02.2015
Song language: English
Christmas in the Trenches |
Oh my name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool |
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school |
From Belgium and to Flanders, Germany to here |
I fought for King and country I love dear |
Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung |
The frozen fields of France where still no Christmas songs were sung |
Our families back in England were toasting us that day |
There brave and glorious lads so far away |
I was lying with my mess mates on the cold and rocky ground |
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound |
Says I now listen up me boys, each soldier strained to hear |
As one young German voice sang out so clear |
He’s singing bloody well you know, my partner says to me |
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony |
The cannons rested silent and the gas cloud rolled no more |
As Christmas brought us respite from the war |
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent |
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen struck up some lads from Kent |
The next thing sang was Stille Nach tis Silent Night says I |
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky |
There’s someone coming towards us now the front line sentry said |
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side |
His truce flag like a Christmas Star shone on the plane so bright |
As he bravely trudged unarmed into the night |
Then one by one on either side, walked in to No Mans Land |
With neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand |
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well |
And in a flare lit football game we gave them hell |
We traded chocolates, cigarettes and photographs from home |
These sons and father far away from families of their own |
Ton Sanders played the squeeze box and they had a violin |
This curious and unlikely band of men |
Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more |
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war |
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night |
Whose family have I fixed within my sights |
Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung |
The frozen fields of France were warmed, the songs of peace were sung |
For the walls they’d kept between us to exact the work of war |
Had been crumbled and were gone forever more |
Oh my name is Francis Tolliver, from Liverpool I dwell |
Each Christmas comes since World War I have learned its lesson well |
For the one who calls the shots won’t be among the dead and lame |
And on each end of the rifle we’re the same |