Truce - Tom Robinson

Truce, call a truce

Stop all the firing and the fighting

Christmas morning, 1914

What would the good Lord say?

Truce, call a truce

Stop all the shelling and the shooting

Froehliche Weinacht

Kamerad, Freundschaft

Let’s all be friends for a days

In the man made hell

In the putrescent smell

In the mines and mud and trenches

The men from therhine crossed over the line

For a truce…

With the Tommies and the Frenchies

But the very next day

There were hand grenades

There was gunfire, gassing and slaughter

As we blasted the Hun

To Kingdome Come

With machine guns, shelling and mortars

It was nice to pretend

We could all live as friends

With the Christmas angels calling

But the dream turned sour

In a matter of hours

And we made it all up in the morning

Truce, call a truce

Stop all the bitching and backbiting

Who’d leave their lover

Or send in the bailiffs

This one day of the year?

Truce, call a truce

Stop all the sackings and the stealing

Who’d rape a schoolgirl

Or cut off someone’s pension

And spoil all this Christmas cheer

There’s a couple of days when the bashers of gays

Who oppress, arrest and charge us

All leave us alone to return back home

For a truce…

With our mothers and our fathers

But the very next day it’s back to the fray

And setting our homes in order

Bashing Lesbian mothers

And underage lovers

Disowning gay sons and daughters

Well it’s quaint to pretend

We can love our fellow men

With the Christmas angels calling

But the dream turns sour

In a matter of hours

And they make it all up in the morning