| Not a tree on the skyline
|
| Nor a bird in the wing
|
| Whispers frozen for all time
|
| No man’s land will be king
|
| Left deserted a cold smile
|
| From the way they’ve been served
|
| Virgin mother and her child
|
| Turn their face from the world
|
| Just for a moment, they’re only men
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no killing or fighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no thunder and lighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| On Christmas day
|
| Many years they’ll remember
|
| And they’ll toast absent friends
|
| On that cold day, December
|
| They’ll be back there again
|
| And just for a moment, they’re only men
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no killing or fighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no thunder and lighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| On Christmas day
|
| The wind blows cruel and hostile, on that deserted land
|
| No shepherd sacrifice the lamb
|
| While prayers of guilt and duty, race upwards to the sky
|
| Collide in fearsome combat cry
|
| Oh, the guns and the ships and the planes of every county
|
| For the wins and the gains, what a price, it’s much too high
|
| Don’t look away and wonder, this savage poetry
|
| Is set to drag you under with arms of jealousy
|
| The sun won’t rise up shining, on fields of evergreen
|
| Shot down by a crossfire with a scream
|
| The seasons change so slowly and bring on winter’s song
|
| Till no-one knows where they belong
|
| Oh, the guns and the ships and the planes of every county
|
| For the wins and the gains, what a price, it’s much too high
|
| Don’t look away and wonder, this savage poetry
|
| Is set to drag you under with arms of jealousy
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no killing or fighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| There’ll be no thunder and lighting
|
| On Christmas day
|
| On Christmas day
|
| On Christmas day |