Sitting quite still in your hole in the ground
Hear the creeping of enemy around
The soft wind now whispering in dead trees
Soldiers all pray on their weary knees
Oh dear God, please keep me ever vouchsafe
From the enemy all around this waif
Then the quietest noise of muted sound
Releasing safety catches all around
As the shuffling noise of copious men
Stirs the blood with deep anger: And then!
Bang! Hear a very pistol’s loud discharge
To light the heavens, shows the foe at large
The noise of the guns and screaming of men
Suddenly without sound, quiet again
To sit dead still in your hole in the ground
Hearing moans of the wounded all around;
Feelings inside of dread and deep sorrow
Dear God! Will I ever see the morrow?
Whistle shrieks loud; soldiers stand and say
Let us shake hands, for this IS Christmas Day.