From an old thread:-

HELLO HANS
(Harvey Andrews)

Well, hello, Hans. I was passing, so I stopped to say hello.
You don't know me, and there's no reason now why you should ever know.
You died here, in some prison camp. Conditions weren't too bad.
Was it a wound, Hans, or maybe the shell-shock sent you mad?
You were twenty. That’s what it says upon the stone.
I'm trying to imagine what it's like to die all alone
At twenty, before you've had a chance to be half grown.
I was passing, so I stopped to say hello.

Can you see the child, Hans, the little girl who laughs upon your grave?
Not yours, Hans, not the ones you went to war to save.
See her father? He proudly picks her up and sits her down
On your tombstone, to take photographs that he can show around.
He was a young boy at the very moment that you died.
Maybe you had a little child to walk proudly by your side,
Or a young wife who tried so very hard but still she cried.
Can you see the little girl laugh on your grave?

So goodbye, Hans. I'll maybe come again some other time,
Because somehow that grave that's yours could easily be mine.
You see, there's wars, Hans. Men are trained to fight each other still.
It goes on, Hans. It always has. It seems it always will.
So I must go now. The young men milling round are making so much noise,
And as you remember, when they're together boys will always just be boys.
Unlike you, Hans, they've never been a country's broken toys.
So goodbye. I'll maybe come again some other time.