Peat Bog Soldiers

Far and wide as the eye can wander,
Heath and bog are everywhere
Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
Oaks are standing, gaunt and bare

We are the peatbog soldiers,
Marching with our spades to the bog

Up and down the guards are pacing
No one, no one can go through
Flight would mean a sure death facing,
Guns and barbed wire greet our view


But for us there is no complaining
Winter will in time be past
One day we shall cry rejoicing
Homeland dear, you're mine at last!"

Thus will the peatbog soldiers,
March no more with spades to the bog.

- Johann Esser and Wolfgang Langhaff
© 1964 Stormking Music Inc.