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'Twas with a heart of leaden woe Poor Alphonze went to war; And though it's true he did not know What he was fighting for, He grieved because unto Marie He'd been but three weeks wed: Tough luck! Another three and he Was listed with the dead. Marie was free if she would fain Another spouse to choose; But if she dared to wed again Her pension she would lose. And so to mourn she did prefer, And widow to remain, Like many dames whose husbands were Accounted with the slain. Yet she was made for motherhood With hips and belly broad, And should have born a bonny brood To render thanks to God. Ah! If with valour Alphonze hadn't Fallen in the fray, Proud Marie would have been a glad Great grandmother today. Songtexte Yet maybe it is just as well She has not bred her kind; The ranks of unemployment swell, And flats are hard to find. For every year the human race Richly we see increase, And wonder how they'll find a place ... Well, that's the curse of Peace. So let us hail the gods of war With joy and jubilation, Who favour foolish mankind for They prune the population; And let us thank the hungry guns Forever belching doom, That slaughter bloodily our sons To give us elbow room. Aus Songtexte Mania