Adolf's Dead
Web site for the Young family from Cypress River, Manitoba
Adolf's Dead
(by  W.G. Young)

How do you count your dead, Adolf,
Since the time when your purge began?
Do you count them by tens, or fifties, or more,
Or reckon by squads of men?
Do you count out the beat of the heart as it dies,
Or reackon the red, just spilled?
Or turn your head and wash your hands
Of the blood of the men just killed?
How do you count your dead, Adolf,
When you come to count the Jews
That were stabbed or shot, or left to be choked
By gas from your belching flues?
Do you count them as men, or so many things,
Or clay, or clogs, or brash?
Or mark them down in your "Book of Death"
As so much "Dirty Trash"?

How do you count your dead, Adolf,
When you come to count your own?
Then men whom you trained in your Nazi faith
To master all other grown?
Do you count them as men or so many clues,
That lead to the end of the trail,
The men who have sworn to cleanse the earth
Or the curse of the Nazi flail?

Do you laugh as you count your dead, Adolf,
As the count rolls up the score;
Of the many murdered by your devcrees,
Do you laugh and long for more?
Does your blood run red, or purple and white
With spleen, for men who dwell
In peace, while you in your potent hate
Seem spring from the fiends of hell?

For count your dead some time, Adolf,
You must, as the years pass by
When you  in your twisted mind, decreed
Who and how many, should die.
And when you count, count first of all
The three in the "Tiger's Nest".
If you count them right it will take so long
You need not count the rest.

For to count those three is to count, Adolf,
The Jew, The Finn and the Pole,
The women and girls, old men and boys,
Ah, God, what an awful toll!
Then count the French, the Norse, the Dane,
And the men from the Zuider Zee,
land the men of the Balkans who fell beside
The men from the Central Sea.

Be it from the "Tribes Despied", Adolf,
Or your own proud Aryan race,
Or from nations you scuttled when climbing up
To your vaunted "Higher Place" -
If you count them right, it will take more time
Than God could give your plea,
So shrive your soul, if it can be shriven,
And bow, and count "The Three"
The Young
and the
Rest of us.
"The family that is forever Young!"