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Christmas Eve in 1914, stars were burning,
burning bright,
And all along the Western front, guns were lying still and quiet,
Men lay dozing in the trenches, in the cold and in the dark,
And far away behind the lines, a village dog began to bark.
Some lay thinking of their families,
some sang songs while others were quiet,
Rolling fags and playing brag to pass away this Christmas night,
As they watched the German trenches, something moved in no man's land,
Through the dark there came a soldier, carrying a white flag in his hand.
Then from both sides men came running,
crossing into no man's land,
Through the barbed wire, mud and shell-holes, shyly stood there shaking
hands,
Fritz he brought out cigars and brandy, Tommy brought corned beef and
fags,
Stood there talking, laughing, singing as the moon shone down on no man's
land.
Christmas Day we all played football,
in the mud of no man's land,
Tommy brought some Christmas pudding, Fritz brought out a German band.
When they beat us at the football we shared out all the grub and drink,
And Fritz showed me a faded photo, a brown haired girl back in Berlin.
For four days after no one fired, not
one shell disturbed the night,
For old Fritz and Tommy Atkins, they'd both lost the will to fight.
So they withdrew us from the trenches, sent us far behind the lines,
Sent fresh troops to take our places, told the guns prepare to fire.
The next day in 1914, flares was burning,
burning bright,
The message came, prepare offensive! Over the top we're going tonight,
And men stood waiting in the trenches, looked out across our football
park,
And all along the Western front, the Christmas guns began to bark.
Men stood waiting in the trenches,
looked out across our football park,
And all along the Western front, the Christmas guns began to bark.
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