I meet with two soldiers sometimes here in Hell The one, with a tear on the seat of hi red pantaloons Was stuck by a pitchfork, Climbing a wall to steal apples. The second has a seeming silver helmet, Having died from a fall from his horse on some tram-lines In Dortmund. These two Meeting in the vaulted and vaporous caverns of Hell Exclaim always in identical tones: 'I at least have done my duty to Society and the Fatherland!' It is strange how the cliché` prevails... For I will bet my hat that you sent me here to Hell Are saying the selfsame words at this very moment Concerning that exploit of yours. |