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 were still, no songs of peace were sung.
Our families back in England, were toasting us that day.
Their brave and glorious lads so far away...
I was lying with me messmates, 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 clouds 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.
Ah the next they sang was "Stille Nacht."
"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 cried.
All sights were fixed on one long figure, trudging from their side.
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright.
As he, bravely, trudged unarmed into the night.
Then one by one on either side, walked into No Man's 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 'em hell.
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home.
These sons and fathers far away, from families of their own.
Tom Sanders played his squeezebox 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, as 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 for evermore...
Oh my name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come, since World War One.
I've learned its lessons well.
For the ones who call the shots, won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same...
************
May God protect us all!
Sir Richard...
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