A Christmas song of a different kind

	Many of you are familiar with one of my gripes about the 
	holiday season:  namely that out of the long and illustrious
	history of Christian music, we have to hear the same 15 or 
	so carols in the malls, on the radio, as hold music, etc over 
	and over and over and <splat>!  I know that there is some 
	other material out there if one is willing to look for it
	(the old English material on Loreena McKennitt's "Drive the
	Cold Winter Away" is a good start); but given my bad 
	associations with this season, that's often small consolation.

	The song below is an exception, however.  I first heard it
	several years ago on KOMO radio (the *only* place I've ever
	heard it), and fell in love by the third verse.  Two years 
	ago when I was just moving into Martin's and had a lot of
	time on my hands before beginning the "Great Job Search", 
	I decided I was up to the torture of listening to the radio
	for several hours a day in the week before Christmas in 
	order to get this song on tape.  It took me until the Day
	of, but it was worth it!  As many times as I've heard it,
	it still brings tears to my eyes; and I thought I'd share 
	it with you this year.  (I also picked up another fun song
	I'll mail to you shortly.)  Hopefully you'll appreciate it
	as much as I do.

	This posting is particularly dedicated to Daniel Kohlmetz
	who is serving a tour in Bosnia right now; and to Cori and
	Kyle, his wife and son, who are waiting for him in Germany.
	Lord & Lady keep him, and those like him, safe; and may they
	NEVER know this scene again.

			Stars light your path,
					Quarong

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replyCHRISTMAS IN THE TRENCHES
[By Canadian John McCutcheon. Tune is done by a slow, haunting violin.]

My name is Francis Tolliver,
I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school. To Belgium and to Flanders,
To Germany, to here.
I fought for King and country I love dear.

Twas Christmas in the trenches,
Where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung. Our families back in England
Were toasting us that day,
Their brave and glorius lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate
On the cold and rocky ground,
When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound. Says I "Now listen up me boys!"
Each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.

"He's singing bloody well you know."

My partner says to me.
Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony. The cannons rested silent,
The gas cloud rolled no more,
As Christmas brought us respite from the war.

(4 bars of instrumental break)

As soon as they were finished
A reverent pause was spent,
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" struck up some lads from Kent.
Oh the next they sang was "Steele Nacht",
"Tis 'Silent Night'" says I.

And in two tongues, one song filled up that sky.

"There's someone coming towards us!"

The forward sentry cried.
All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side. His truce flag like a Christmas star
Shown on that plain so bright,
As he bravely strode unarmed into the night.

Then one by one on either side
Walked into No-Man's Land;
With neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand. We shared some secret brandy,
And wished each other well;
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell!

We traded chocalates, cigarettes,
And photographs from home.
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own. Young Sanders played his squeezebox
And they had a violin,
This curious and unlikely band of men.

(4 bars of instrumental music.)

Soon daylight stole upon us
And France was France once more;
With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war. But the question haunted every heart
That lived that wondrous night,
Whose family have I fixed within my sights?

Twas Christmas in the Trenches,
Where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung. For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore.

(4 bars of instrumental music.)

Oh my name is Francis Tolliver,
In Liverpool I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War One, I've learned its lessons well: That the ones who call the shots
Won't be among the dead and lame,
And on each end of the rifle we're the same.

(4 bars of instrumental music, slow and fading.) Received on 12/26/96