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Full Online Book HomePoemsFritz Writes To His Frau
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Fritz Writes To His Frau Post by :samba Category :Poems Author :Abner Cosens Date :November 2011 Read :993

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Fritz Writes To His Frau

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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Katrina Replies To Fritz Katrina Replies To Fritz

Katrina Replies To Fritz
Mine dear Fritz: It shoost makes me feel plue Ven I get me dat letter you write, For already mine fears haf come true Dat you maype get hurt in dis fight, Vot's de use so you make de beeg splash, Und you hold de whole trench py your self? Dat don't put no more meat in mine hash Und not any more pread on mine shelf. Do you

Fritz Philosophizes Fritz Philosophizes

Fritz Philosophizes
Since I'm held in his hospital up, Mine poor back full mit shrapnel und lead Ven I tink of der Kaiser und Krupp, Dere's a ting dat von't come troo mine head. Vot already I'm tinking aboudt, To pelieve in mine heart I can't yet, But de more dat I knows I find oudt Vy dose Englishmans frightened don't get. Ve haf guns dat vill shoot forty miles,