The machine gun in the First World War turned no-man's
land into a slaughterhouse killing thousands. At the battle
of the Somme 10,000 British soldiers fell to the deadly hail
from machine-guns within minutes of leaving the trenches.
British troops were called Tommies.
Chitter chatter, chitter chatter
Melody of German machine-guns
Spaying death into no-man's land
Cutting down the advancing Tommies
Like harvester slicing through wheat.
Chitter chatter, chitter chatter
Nowhere to run and hide
Tommies calling for mothers
Some dying alone in the mud
Others tangled upon the wire.
Chitter chatter, chitter chatter
Germans want to stop the dance of death
But the Tommies keep on coming
And with new belts of bullets
Hell continues on the Western Front.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem