letra de suicide in the trenches - harold blumenfeld
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i knew a simple soldier boy
who grinned at life in empty joy
slept soundly through the lonesome dark
and whistled early with the lark
in winter trenches, cowed and glum
with crumps and lice and lack of rum
he put a bullet through his brain
no one spoke of him again
– – – – –
you snug-faced crowds with kindling eye
who cheer when soldier lads march by
sneak home and pray you’ll never know
the h-ll where youth and laughter go
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