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Title: Fritz Writes To His Frau
Author: Abner Cosens [
More Titles by Cosens]
Dear Katrina--Dis letter I write
From von hospital, somevere in France,
For I get so proke oop in de fight
Dat dis maype vill be mine last chance.
Vell, I hold von whole trench py mineself,
Mit some poys dat shoost come to de front;
Britty soon dey get laid on de shelf,
Den your Fritz have to do be beeg shtunt.
Ven I shoot all dose English and French,
Den already I tinks I vill shmoke,
Den I hunts von safe blace in de trench,
Vere de rain mit de ground doesn't soak.
Soon I vake mit a punch from a gun,
Und I hear von Canadian say:
"Come mit me, you darned shleepy old Hun,"
Den he shteal mine seegars all avay.
Den de next ting I know I am here,
For already de vorld had turned plack;
Dat Canadian certain vos queer,
For he carry me in on his back.
From mine preast so mooch hardvare got oudt
Britty soon I can shtart von shmall shtore;
If dere's any old junk mans aboudt
Dey might call at dis hospital door.
Now Katrina don't vorry some more,
Keep de grubs from de cabbage avay,
Und pe sure dat you lock oop de door,
Ven alone in de house you must shtay.
Put some flowers on leetle Karl's grave;
All de time now I'm glad he is dead;
Vot's de use to grow oop shtrong und prave,
Only shoost to get shot troo de head?
Mine truly, Fritz.
[The end]
Abner Cosens's poem: Fritz Writes To His Frau
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