Die Moorsoldaten [Börgermoorlied; Das Moorlied]
Rudi Goguel| 3b. The Bog Battalion - La versione inglese di Frank Pine (1960)... | |
| THE PEAT BOG SOLDIERS Far and wide as the eye can wander, Heath and bog are everywhere. Not a bird sing out to cheer us. Oaks are standing gaunt and bare. We are the peat bog soldiers, Marching with our spades To the moor. Up and down the guards are marching, No one, no one can get through. Flight would mean a sure death facing, Guns and barbed wire block our view. We are the peat bog soldiers, Marching with our spades To the moor. But for us there is no complaining, Winter will in time be past. One day we shall rise rejoicing. Homeland, dear, you're mine at last. No more the peat bog soldiers Will march with our spades To the moor. | THE BOG BATTALION (Die Moorsoldaten) Any directions you might see, Bog and heath is everywhere. Here are no birds to sing for me The oaks, they stand twisted and bare. We are the bog battalion, On spade instead of stallion, In bog. In such a deserted landscape Just for us, this compound dire. Far from friends and with no escape We are cached behind barbed wire. We are the bog battalion, On spade instead of stallion, In bog. Columns long, we head for the bog To dig the early morning. We sweat in sun, work like a dog, And think of loved ones mourning. We are the bog battalion, On spade instead of stallion, In bog. Thought to home and hearth do return, To parents, wife and children. Many a breast may sigh and yearn To leave this prison, when, oh when? We are the bog battalion, On spade instead of stallion, In bog. The patrols guard us day and night, Escape is a losing sport. Your life's not worth attempted flight, Four rings of wire fence the fort. We are the bog battalion, On spade instead of stallion, In bog. Complaining will not set us free; Winter can't last forever. The time will come when we will see, Our homeland ours, together. Then no more bog battalion No spade instead of stallion In bog. |
