The song of Craonne

When after eight days, the rest over
We go take back the trenches,
Our place is so useful
That without us we’d get crushed
But that’s over, we’ve had enough
No one wants to march any more
And with a heavy heart, as if in a weep
We say farewell to civvies
Even without drums, even without trumpets
We climb up there, keeping our heads down
Farewell to life, farewell to love,
Farewell to all women
It’s all over, it’s forever
For this infamous war
It’s at Craonne on the plateau
That we must kick the bucket
Because we’re all condemned
We’re the sacrificed
Eight days of trench, eight days of suffering
But we still have hope
That tonight will come the relief
That we’re waiting without truce
Suddenly in the night and in silence
We see someone approaching
That’s an officer of rifles
Who comes to replace us
Softly in the shadow under the falling rain
The little rifles are looking for their graves
It’s sad to see on the main boulevards
All these fat ones partying
If for them life is great
For us, it’s not the same thing
Instead of hiding, all these shirkers
Had better climb to the trenches
To defend their ownings, for we own nothing
We the poor miserous
All the comrades are buried there
To defend the ownings of these gentlemen
Those who’ve got the dough, they’ll come back
For it’s for them we die
But it’s over, because the soldiers
Will all go on strike
It’ll be your turn, fat gentlemen
To climb on the plateau
For if you want to do war
Pay it with your own blood

La chanson de Craonne, par Marc Ogeret