You love us when we’re heroes, home on leave, Or wounded in a mentionable place. You worship decorations; you believe That chivalry redeems the war’s disgrace. You make us shells. You listen with delight, By tales of dirt and danger fondly thrilled. You crown our distant ardours while we fight, And mourn our laurelled memories when we’re killed. You can’t believe that British troops ‘retire’ When hell’s last horror breaks them, and they run, Trampling the terrible corpses—blind with blood. O German mother dreaming by the fire, While you are knitting socks to send your son His face is trodden deeper in the mud.
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Text Authorship:
- by Siegfried Lorraine Sassoon (1886 - 1967) [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
This text (or a part of it) is used in a work
- by Michael Ippolito (b. 1985), "Hero (from Glory of Women and Hero)", 2006, first performed 2006 [ baritone, SATB quartet or SATB chorus, flute or piccolo, trumpet, percussion, organ, and piano ], from Songbook of the War, no. 8, confirmed with a score
Researcher for this page: Malcolm Wren [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2018-08-31
Line count: 14
Word count: 104