In Pete Seeger's book "The Bells of Rhymney" (Oak PUblications 1964), he says that the song was smuggled out of Germany by Hans Eisler in 1934 and that it was composed by prisoner at Borgersmoor, an early concentration camp. This is not inconsistent with the information above concerning the age and origin of the German lyrics. The English translation that is most frequently sung, seems less well defined. (As an aside, I searched "peat" in the DT and did not come up with the lyrics. That's a shame, because it's been discussed several times over the years. A copy of the most familar English lyrics was posted by Paddymac in a "hear Me " thread. I copied them below so they can be part of this thread and may get into the DT). A good translation that is singable can make or break a song going from one language to another, but translaters usually sink into obscurity. Anyone know who did the familiar English translation of "Stille Nacht"? The English translatio in Pete's book, and that he sings, is the same as the one below. He describes it as "author unknown" and "one of the best". That statement implies there are several other translations out there. One alternative is in the links above, although I have not heard that one sung. Did Paul Robeson do it in German back in 1942, or did he have an English version already back then? Seeger's book list the copyright as "Veterans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade", but Pete has somewhat of a reputaion of asigning copyrights for political reasons and to keep someone else from cashing in on a song he considers to be public domain. So how old is this English translation? At least 1964. If Bikel sang the same one, that pushes it back a bit. Also most of the songs in Pete's song book were sung by him before the book went to press.

rich r

PEAT BOG SOLDIERS

Far and wide as the eye can wander,
Heath and bog are everywhere.
Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
Oaks are standing gaunt and bare.

Chorus:
We are the peatbog soldiers,
Marching with our spades to the moor.

Up and down the guards are pacing.
No one, no one can get through.
Flight would mean a sure death facing,
Guns and barbed wire greet our view.

Chorus:

But for us there is no complaining,
Winter will in time be past.
One day we shall rise rejoicing,
"Homeland" dear. your mine at last.

Chorus (2):
Then will the peatbog soldiers
March no more with their spades to the Moor.

rich r ^^^