Jean Desprez

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[Verse 1]
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Oh, ye whose hearts are resonant, and ring to War's romance
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Hear ye the story of a boy, a peasant boy of France
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A lad uncouth and warped with toil, yet who, when trial came
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Could feel within his soul upleap and soar the sacred flame;
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Could stand upright, and scorn and smite, as only heroes may:
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Oh, hearken! Let me try to tell the tale of Jean Desprez


[Verse 2]
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With fire and sword the Teuton horde was ravaging the land
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And there was darkness and despair, grim death on every hand;
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Red fields of slaughter sloping down to ruin's black abyss;
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The wolves of war ran evil-fanged, and little did they miss
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And on they came with fear and flame, to burn and loot and slay
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Until they reached the red-roofed croft, the home of Jean Desprez


[Verse 3]
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"Rout out the village one and all!" the Uhlan Captain said
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"Behold! Some hand has fired a shot. My trumpeter is dead
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Now shall they Prussian vengeance know; now shall they rue the day
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For by this sacred German slain, ten of these dogs shall pay."
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They drove the cowering peasants forth, women and babes and men
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And from the last, with many a jeer the Captain chose he ten
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Ten simple peasants, bowed with toil, they stood, they knew not why
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Against the grey wall of the church, hearing their children cry;
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Hearing their wives and mothers wail, with faces dazed they stood
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A moment only ... Ready! Fire! They weltered in their blood


[Instrumental]
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[Verse 4]
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But there was one who gazed unseen, who heard the frenzied cries
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Who saw these men in sabots fall before their children's eyes;
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A Zouave wounded in a ditch, and knowing death was nigh
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He laughed with joy: "Ah! here is where I settle ere I die."
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He clutched his rifle once again, and long he aimed and well ...
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A shot! Beside his victims ten the Uhlan Captain fell
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They dragged the wounded Zouave out; their rage was like a flame
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With bayonets they pinned him down, until their Major came
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A blond, full-blooded man he was, and arrogant of eye;
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He stared to see with shattered skull his favorite Captain lie
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"Nay do not finish him so quick, this foreign swine," he cried;
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"Go nail him to the big church door: he shall be crucified."


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[Verse 5]
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With bayonets through hands and feet they nailed the Zouave there
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And there was anguish in his eyes, and horror in his stare;
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"Water! A single drop!" he moaned, but how they jeered at him
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And mocked him with an empty cup, and saw his sight grow dim;
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And as in agony of death with blood his lips were wet
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The Prussian Major gaily laughed, and lit a cigarette


[Verse 6]
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But mid the white-faced villagers who cowered in horror by
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Was one who saw the woeful sight, who heard the woeful cry:
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"Water! One little drop, I beg! For love of Christ who died ..."
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It was the little Jean Desprez who turned and stole aside;
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It was the little barefoot boy who came with cup abrim
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And walked up to the dying man, and gave the drink to him


[Verse 7]
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A roar of rage! They seize the boy; they tear him fast away
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The Prussian Major swings around; no longer is he gay
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His teeth are wolfishly agleam; his face all dark with spite:
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"Go shoot the brat," he snarls, "that dare defy our Prussian might
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Yet stay! I have another thought. I'll kindly be, and spare;
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Quick! give the lad a rifle charged, and set him squarely there
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And bid him shoot, and shoot to kill. Haste! make him understand
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The dying dog he fain would save shall perish by his hand
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And all his kindred they shall see, and all shall curse his name
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Who bought his life at such a cost, the price of death and shame."


[Verse 8]
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They brought the boy, wild-eyed with fear; they made him understand;
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They stood him by the dying man, a rifle in his hand
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"Make haste!" said they, "the time is short, and you must kill or die."
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The Major puffed his cigarette, amusement in his eye
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And then the dying Zouave heard, and raised his weary head:
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"Shoot, son, 'twill be the best for both; shoot swift and straight," he said
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"Fire first and last, and do not flinch; for lost of hope am I;
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And I will murmur: Vive La France! and bless you ere I die."


[Verse 9]
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Half-blind with blows the boy stood there, he seemed to swoon and sway;
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Then in that moment woke the soul of little Jean Desprez
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He saw the woods go sheening down, the larks were singing clear;
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And oh! the scents and sounds of spring, how sweet they were! how dear!
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He felt the scent of new mown hay, a soft breeze fanned his brow;
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O God! the paths of peace and toil! How precious were they now


[Verse 10]
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The summer days and summer ways, how bright with hope and bliss!
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The autumn such a dream of gold ... and all must stand in this:
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This shining rifle in his hand, that shambles all around;
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The Zouave there with a dying glare; the blood upon the ground;
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The brutal faces round him ringed, the evil eyes aflame;
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That Prussian bully standing by, as if he watched a game
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"Make haste and shoot," the Major sneered; "a minute more I give;
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A minute more to kill your friend, if you yourself would live."


[Instrumental]
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[Verse 11]
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They only saw a bare-foot boy, with blanched and twitching face;
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They did not see within his eyes the glory of his race;
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The glory of a million men who for fair France have died
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The splendor of self-sacrifice that will not be denied
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Yet ... he was but a peasant lad, and oh! but life was sweet ...
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"Your minute's nearly gone, my lad," he heard a voice repeat
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"Shoot! Shoot!" the dying Zouave moaned; "Shoot! Shoot!" the soldiers said
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Then Jean Desprez reached out and shot ... the Prussian Major dead!