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От
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VLADIMIR
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All
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Дата
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23.12.2003 15:08:13
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Рубрики
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WWII;
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Баллада об английском солдате, вернувшемся с войны (без грубых слов)
The School Of War
They taught him how to use a knife, And kill without a sound, To swim a stream, to climb 9 cliff, And burrow in the ground.
They taught him how to hate the foe, With all-consuming rage, Until the animal in man Burst forth from reason's cage.
And then one day in Normandy, His lessons served him well, And many of the enemy Was sent to heaven, or hell.
They pinned a medal on his breast, And called him hero too, And sent him back to civil life To look for work to do.
With bounding heart he homeward sped, Planning the things he'd say, When he should join the one he loved, Never to go away.
But as he entered at the door, He stopped and stared aghast. His wife was in another's arms! Her love for him had passed.
The hate he'd learned in days of war Came running through his head. Swiftly the knife he raised on high And struck her lover dead.
They pinned no medal on his breast. But friendless and forlorn, They found him guilty of his crime. He'll hang tomorrow morn.
R. F. Palmer
С уважением, ВЛАДИМИР