Dead Mans Ridge by The Broke Moakers Music Band Lyrics

On a wintersday in nighteen-forty-five
Combat troopers of the allied forces strived
Through the freezing mud of the westerly Bastogne
In the footsteps of the ones already gone

They were marching for a hill called Dead Man’s Ridge
Tortured by the chill and their blisters' itch
Held to pieces by their pride and nothing more
Soon to face the enemy and settle the score

Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead man’s ridge

The enemy had dug in well they were all prepared
W’artillery and guns, nota’ single soul was spared
And fair to say the bravery of all the fine young men
Was wasted within minutes after the battle had begun
Slowly as the sun rose it lit up the gallery
Of the dead and frozen bodies of the seventh company
Moulded into marionettes by the frozen mud
They say that it was hard to see that they were
Flesh and blood


And if you ever find yourself in the westerly Bastogne
The wind may tell you that the way to Tipperary's long
Be sure to say a prayer for the souls of everyone
That sacrificed their livers for our freedom to be won

Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead-man’s ridge
Dead man’s ridge