55 s

Lyrics

(Intro)
(A gentle, arpeggiated nylon-string guitar in a minor key. A faint, distant accordion melody drifts in, sounding like a memory.)
​(Verse 1)
The ash is falling softly on the street of Sun and Moon
The morning came too slowly, and the night it left too soon.
I was scrounging through the rubble where the Chassepot fell to rust
And I saw a glint of iron rising upward from the dust.
A Bergmann Eighteen-Ninety-Six, with the clip before the hand
A strange and German beauty in this broken, burning land.
I knew that folding trigger, and the grip of polished wood
It belonged to Pierre, my brother, the bravest of the good.
​(Verse 2)
He’d bought it from a traveler when the world was still at peace
Before the drums of Peking and the wars that never cease.
He used to show it off to me, with a sparkle in his eye
"The future’s in this barrel, Jacques," he’d say beneath the sky.
Now Pierre is sleeping soundly where the lilies used to grow
And the man who held this pistol is a man I’ll never know.
I wiped the grit and powder from the frame of cold, blue steel
And for a moment, in the smoke, I felt the phantom real.
​(Chorus)
OH, PIERRE, I FOUND YOUR BERGMANN IN THE MUD!
WASHOUT OF THE TEARS AND THE SACRIFICIAL BLOOD.
I’LL CARRY IT FOR FRANCE, AND I’LL CARRY IT FOR YOU
UNTIL THE SKY OF PEKING TURNS BACK TO TRICOLOR BLUE!
(Tricolor blue...)
​(Bridge)
(The accordion takes a more prominent role, playing a bittersweet melody over a rhythmic, brushing snare. The guitar strumming becomes more urgent and resonant.)
The mechanism's heavy, and the weight is in my soul
But I’ll play the hand you dealt me, I will play your final role.
Ten rounds for the fallen, ten rounds for the ghost
A salute to the companion that I loved the very most!
​(Verse 3)
I stood upon the rampart as the sun began to fade
With the Bergmann in my holster, and the memory in the shade.
It doesn't feel like iron, it feels like Pierre’s own hand
Guiding me through fire in this ancient, dying land.
If I make it back to Paris, to the cafés and the light
I’ll tell them how you held the line throughout the longest night.
​(Outro)
(The music slows down to a final, delicate guitar fingerpicking pattern and a soft, fading accordion chord.)
Le Bergmann de mon frère...
Dans la poussière de Pékin...
(A whisper)
Adieu, Pierre.
(Fade to silence)
​Lyrics:
Dans la boue des tranchées oubliées,
J'ai trouvé ton Bergmann, cher ami.
Un éclair de nos rires, nos vies,
Dans le fracas et la folie.
Sa poignée si familière,
Une larme, et ma peine est amère.
Je prends ton arme, et ta mémoire,
Mon frère... dans cette triste histoire.
Lyrics:
Dans la boue des tranchées oubliées,
J'ai trouvé ton Bergmann, cher ami.
Un éclair de nos rires, nos vies,
Dans le fracas et la folie.
Sa poignée si familière,
Une larme, et ma peine est amère.
Je prends ton arme, et ta mémoire,
Mon frère... dans cette triste histoire.