THE BUTCHER'S TALE (WESTERN FRONT 1914)
(written by Chris White)
The Zombies


A butcher yes that was my trade
But the king's shilling is now my fee
A butcher I may as well have stayed
For the slaughter that I see

And the preacher in his pulpit
Sermon: "Go and fight, do what is right"
But he don't have to hear these guns
And I'll bet he sleeps at night

And I
And I can't stop shaking
My hands won't stop shaking
My arms won't stop shaking
My mind won't stop shaking
I want to go home
Please let me go home
Go home

And I have seen a friend of mine 
Hang on the wire 
Like some rag toy 
Then in the heat the flies come down 
And cover up the boy
And the flies come down in 
Gommecourt, Thiepval, 
Mametz Wood, and French Verdun
If the preacher he could see those flies 
Wouldn't preach for the sound of guns

And I
And I can't stop shaking
My hands won't stop shaking
My arms won't stop shaking
My mind won't stop shaking
I want to go home
Please let me go home
Go home