When this bleedin’ war is over
No more soldiering for me
When I get my civvies clothes on
Oh, how happy I shall be.
No more church parades on Sunday
No more asking for a pass
I shall tell the sergeant major
To stick his passes up his arse
When this lousy war is over
Oh how happy I shall be
When I get my civvie clothes on
And I return from Germany.
I shall sound my own reveille
I shall make my own tattoo
No more N.C.O’s to bollock me
No more rotten Army stew.
N.C.O.’s will all be navvies
Privates ride in motor cars:-
Officers will smoke their Woodbines,
Privates puff their big cigars.
No more ‘Stand-To’ in the trenches
Never another church- parade;
No more shiv’ring on the fire step,
No more Tickler’s marmalade
When this Bleeding War – Full Score
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