Here’s to the soldiers that march to the wars
With lovely tin hats and long woollen drawers
The Colonel says ‘Right lads, over the top!’
Then he stands back to watch while the poor buggers drop

Buy us a drink and I’ll sing you a song
Of the chances you missed and the love that went wrong
If you can’t buy us a whiskey stand us a pint
I’ll knock it straight down and I’ll sing it again

There’s girls in the parlour, there’s girls in the bars
They paint on the smile so you don’t see the scars
They get lots of offers and not much respect
For raisin’ three kids on a government cheque

Drink it down, boys down
As long as there’s life in the day
For you’ll get no more sup when your number is up
And they lay you to rot in the clay

Then [bad word] the landlord so fat and [bad word] round in his Volvo to pick up the rent
Then off with his wad to recline by the pool
He leaves you to rot in this [bad word] old hole

It’s the taste of the whisky to tell you the [bad word] Has shortened my days and wasted my youth
Be kind to the health sir, do it no harm
Put a pint of the black on the end of my arm