and though the fires are burning

under the pillars of learning

i hear the wind is still howling

"go home"

and looking out of your window

you see a brave new tomorrow

and no one is standing in your way



when everyting is done

the war is never won

he's standing all alone

the russian winds blow cold

his story must be told

the great one-handed brag



through all the bodies decaying

you come up smelling of roses

you take the final decision

to carry on

you think of sweet josephine

back home where fields were green

and no sweat, no blood, no stench,

no mortal coil.



when everyting is done

the war is never won

he's standing all alone

the russian winds blow cold

his story must be told

the great one-handed brag



(verse en francais)



oh

and the boys are all in retreat

you'd better wise up and face defeat

and half a million men lie dying



when everyting is done

the war is never won

he's standing all alone

the russian winds blow cold

the story must be told

the great one-handed brag