At The Elbe

Fred Small

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    Well mister I just overheard you talking through your drink
    How the Russians lie like rugs how they've pushed us to the brink
    Now sit right here beside me I've an old man's tale to tell
    How Yanks and Reds were friends once at the Elbe.
    My name is Joe Polowski I hitched up in '41
    Left my sweetheart in Chicago and I learned to fire a gun
    The fog in the Ardennes so thick you could not see your nose
    Nor the ghosts in the Belgian wood advancing through the snow.
    We left our dead behind us and we scaled the Dragon's Teeth
    With screaming mimis overhead not one of us could sleep
    Some fell to the enemy some fell to the creeping cold
    And I killed a German sniper who was not fourteen years old.
    When a soldier takes a hit my friend it ain't like Hollywood
    Bone and guts go flying and everywhere there's blood
    For a moment he is mystified there must be some mistake
    As it all drains out in a crimson lake.
    Then April turned the weather and likewise the tide of war
    As haggard hungry Germans surrendered by the score
    And thank god for the Russians who took the battle's brunt
    And broke the back of the Wermacht along the eastern front. Then
    We saw a burst of lilacs and the river swift and wide
    And rest and welcome waiting for us on the other side
    And Yanks and Reds laughed out loud to be alive at the Elbe.
    We caught the glint of water and upon the distant shore
    Men and trucks and horses not German and not ours
    No bridge to cross but at the dock a boat securely tied
    We blew the chain and rowed like demons for the other side.
    But when we stepped up on the land oh Jesus what a sight
    Blackened bodies of civilians like driftwood piled high
    Cut down by stray artillery -- what the hell is it all for
    We knelt and cursed the cruelty and madness men call war.
    Three Russians approached us, we shook hands and then embraced
    Stalingrad had traced its lines of sadness on their face
    Upon that field of corpses these weary happy men
    Swore an oath that it must never happen again.
    And then we wept and cheered and spoke in languages unknown
    They poured us Russian vodka by god we drank it down
    We sang "The Volga Boatman" they sang "Tavern in the Town"
    I never kissed so many men as on that afternoon when
    We saw a burst of lilacs and the river swift and wide
    And rest and welcome waiting for us on the other side
    And Yanks and Reds laughed out loud to be alive at the Elbe.
    But no sooner were we stateside than the cold war headlines read
    Commies in the unions commies under every bed
    Hurrah the Nazi devil's down long live the devil Red
    And not one word about the oath we swore amongst the dead.
    There are kids today who'll tell you we fought Russia in the war
    There are armchair heroes set to settle some old score
    There are profiteers and pushers primed to send young men once more
    To blow themselves to glory on some godforsaken shore.
    So drape my coffin with the flag of the good old USA
    Let Yanks in army khaki and Reds in Russian gray
    Lower me so gently into the German clay
    And speak again the oath we swore that day when
    We saw a burst of lilacs and the river swift and wide
    And rest and welcome waiting for us on the other side
    And Yanks and Reds laughed out loud to be alive at the Elbe.
    ...at the Elbe

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    Composición: Fred Small

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