Yes, Im fightin for old England And for eighteenpence a day, And Im fightin like an ero, So the daily papers say. Well, I aint no downy chicken, Im a bloke past forty-three, And Im goin to tell ye honest What old England means to me. When I joined the British Army Id bin workin thirty years, But I left my bloomin rent-book Showin three months in arrears. No, I werent no chronic boozer, Nor I werent a lad to bet; I worked ard when I could get it, And I werent afeared to sweat. But I werent a tradesman proper, And the work were oft to seek, So the most I could addle Were abaht a quid a week. And when me and Jane got married, And we ad our oldest kid, We soon learned ow many shillings Go to make a golden quid. For we ad to keep our clubs up, And theres three and six for rent, And with food and boots and clothing It no sooner came than went. Then when kiddies kep on comin- We reared four and buried three; My ole woman couldnt do it, So we got in debt - ye see. And we ad a eap o sickness And we got struck off the club, With our little lot o troubles We just couldnt pay the sub. No, I wont tell you no falseoods; There were times I felt that queer, That I went and did the dirty, And ad a drop o beer. Then the wife and me ud quarrel, And our ome were little ell, Wiv the ungry kiddies cryin, Till I eased up for a spell. There were times when it were better, There were times when it were worse, But to make it altogether, My old England were a curse. It were sleepin, sweatin, starvin, Wearing boot soles for a job, It were sucking up to foremen What ud sell ye for a bob. It were cringin, crawlin, whinin, For the right to earn your bread, It were schemin, pinchin, plannin, It were wishin ye was dead. Im not fightin for old England, Not for this child - am I? Ell! For the sake o that old England Id not face a single shell, Not a single bloomin whizzbang. Never mind this blarsted show, With your comrades fallin round ye, Lyin bleedin in a row. This aint war, its ruddy murder, Its a stinkin slaughter ouse. Ark to that one, if e got ye Ed just squash ye like this louse. Would I do this for old England, Would I? Ell, I says, not me! What I says is, sink old England, To the bottom of the sea! Its new England as I fights for, Its an England swep aht clean, Its an England where well get at Things our eyes ave never seen; Decent wages, justice, mercy, And a chance for evry man For to make is ome an eaven If e does the best e can. Its that better, cleaner England, Made o better, cleaner men, Its that England as I fights for, And Im game to fight again. Its the better land o Blighty That still shines afore our eyes, Thats the land a soldier fights for, And for that a soldier dies.
Posted on: Sat, 09 Nov 2013 13:02:23 +0000
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