My son, I gave you the jackboots And the brown shirt came from me But had I known what I now know I'd have hanged myself I'd have hanged myself from a tree And when I saw your arm, son Raised high in the Hitler salute I did not know all those arms, son Would wither, would wither Would wither at the root And then, then I saw you march off, son Following in Hitler's train And I did not know all those marchers Would never, would never Would never come back again I saw you wear your brown shirt And did not complain or entreat For I did not know what I now know It was your winding sheet
