“I‘m on Guard Duty”

I‘m on guard duty, fine thing,
And I‘m getting quite bored,
I‘m sad and I don’t laugh
for days and years anymore.

Without joy in front of the building,
Where the commander resides,
Bigwigs go in silk and velvet,
While the vermin irritate me.

If my neck itches, I want to scratch it,
But on duty one must stand straight
In front of the Nazi coackroaches,
If only I had a lice comb.

And so I stand with the rifle,
Somewhere in a foreign land,
And the German empire is in a mess,
And the German empire is being stripped bare.

My wife in Buxtehude
Writes that the apartment is destroyed,
She‘s staying in a refreshment stand,
And she‘s freezing terribly,

But what does the cold matter,
For the Führer, she used to sleep willingly
Under the open sky,
Hitler is her bright star.

England, she writes, will collapse,
And then life will be beautiful,
Because we will surely triumph,
See you again joyfully soon.

Doesn‘t she realize yet,
If she knew what I know!
My wife still believes cheerfully,
That the war is won.

I‘m on guard duty and I laugh,
For the first time in a year,
She still believes that the Führer
Will eventually end this torment.

And he pretends he can,
But in truth, he can‘t,
Soon she‘ll get a widow‘s pension,
Unless she‘s hit by a bomb.

And so I stand there with my rifle,
Without purpose and without use,
And the Führer pushes the cart
Further and further into the muck.