“Draza dies a Martyr” by Watson Kirkconnell

Watson Kirkconnell Born: Port Hope, Ontario May 16, 1895 Died: Wolfville, Nova Scotia February 26, 1977

Watson Kirkconnell
Born: Port Hope, Ontario May 16, 1895
Died: Wolfville, Nova Scotia February 26, 1977

“Draza dies a Martyr” by Watson Kirkconnell

Aleksandra’s Note: Canadian Watson Kirkconnell was an incredibly prolific man. Among the hats he wore were that of professor, university administrator (President of Acadia University 1948-64), poet, translator proficient in many languages, including Hungarian, Ukranian, Russian, Serbo-Croatian, and others (it has been said that he was a “master of more than 50 languages and dialects”!), social commentator, literary critic, scholar, Baptist lay leader, and repeatedly a nominee for the Nobel Prize.

My sincere gratitude goes out to Mr. Michael Petrovich in Canada for sharing this passionate and honest historical poem about General Draza Mihailovich, written by Watson Kirkconnell in 1946, that gives new meaning to “poetic justice” as it serves as both a proper tribute and a condemnation.


Aleksandra Rebic





By Watson Kirkconnell



The cheeks of every honest man

Are wet with tears today;

And everyone, at murder done,

For justice kneels to pray.


The evil deed that Tito did

Smells foul to honest men;

The world will weep at Draza’s death

Till freedom comes again.


Tito a triple traitor was,

A life-long cheat and knave,

Who sought through Soviet tyranny

To make his land a slave.


While Stalin kissed with Hitler

Tito kissed Hitler too,

And blessed the bloody Nazi band

That raped and sacked his native land.

The Serbs and Draza made a stand

But Tito was untrue.


And when the Soviets joined the war

And Tito turned to kill

He fought not for his country-folk

But fought for Stalin still.


When Draza won a victory,

Black Tito claimed the credit.

A radio on Russian soil

In noisy clamor said it.


In vicious folly the Allies

Then bowed to Stalin’s orders,

And gave to Tito countless guns

To join the fight on Hitler’s Huns;

But Tito murdered Serbia’s sons,

Who guarded Serbia’s borders.


Cold Stalin’s orders must be served;

The Serbs must not be free:

Convicted by a mighty lie,

Draza Mihailovich must die

Who stands for liberty.


Five hundred Yankee airmen

Give Tito back the lie;

They know the truth of Draza

Whom Tito dooms to die.


But Tito will not hear them speak;

Foul murder is his aim;

Three of his bloody generals

Conclude a court of shame.


And as the summer sunshine dawns

Upon white Belgrade town,

The guns of murdering Communists

Shoot noble Draza down.


At last the Yanks and English see

No deed is on the level

That sells the saints and heroes out

To please a bloody devil.


The lying clamors of their press

And radio have ceased,

And men and nations now begin

To see the folly and the sin

Of hoping by foul means to win

The friendship of a beast.


Pale Churchill gnaws his black cigar

To hear of Draza’s doom;

The haggard ghost of Roosevelt

Is restless in the tomb;


But in the reeking Kremlin

Where bloody Stalin stands,

The tyrant laughs in bloody glee

And cringing servants shrink to see

Fresh blood upon his hands.


But all shall speak of Draza,

And all shall tell his worth,

Long after bloody autocrats

Have vanished from the earth.


For through all lands and nations

His name shall glorious be

When, the comfort of all souls,

Serbs, Balts, Ukrainians and Poles —

And Russians — shall be free.


Then let us pray for Draza,

That he with God may dwell,

His tortures done, his warfare o’ver,

Among the saints for evermore.

While Tito rots in hell.


Watson Kirkconnell


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