When moon cracked cratered as France, and star
battalions hunted, he dared my fire.
He brought me Schnapps, I gave him rum
He had no name. I never knew his name
I know he said—“Tommy, whose war we fight?”
Ich will sprechen, aber ich kann nicht
When wire was cold as frost, frost sharp as wire,
I gave him King’s tobacco, from the Kaiser
Got mellow cigars. He called me Tommy,
I called him Fritz and joined a grander army
than Kitchener’s. “Whose bloody war we fight?”
Ich will sprechen, aber ich kann nicht
That Christmas saw no crackers, just one fine
flickering candle. Hands soiled as mine
reached out to me. Under his spike
I knew he was Johann, he knew me Jack
‘Til then, I never asked whose war we fought
Ich will sprechen, aber ich kann nicht
Stars bubbled beer, moon bloomed benign
as a balloon. Daft Jack and Johann
capered a clodhop dance to stutter
the world’s new brotherhood. He called me brudder
and taught what bloody war we need to fight
Ich will sprechen, aber ich kann nicht
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