A song of the sandbags by Robert Williams service no Bill I’m not a spooning out no patriotic Tosh The Cove be the sandbags ain’t a Death Or Glory cuss and though I strafe some good and art I doesn’t Hae the bch I guess they’re mostly decent just the same as
Most of us I guess they loves their SS and kids as much as you or me and just the same as you or me they’d rather Shake than fight and if we’d happened to be born at Berlin on the Spree we’d be out there with ANS and Fritz dead sure
That we was right they standing up to the sandbags it’s funny the thoughts what come starring into the darkness earing the bullets um Zing zip ping rip Arc out the bullets um closing parenthesis they leaning against the sandbags with me rifle under me ear oh I’ve had more thoughts on a Sentry go
Than I used to Avenue in a year I wonder Bill if ANS and Fritz is wondering like me what’s at the bottom of it all what all the Slaughters for E thinks he’s right of course he ain’t but this we both agree if them is made it add to
Fight there wouldn’t be no war if them as lies in feather beds while we Kips in the mud if them as makes their fortunes while we fights for them like L if them as slings their pot of ink just add to sling their blood by crust I’m thinking
There you’d be another tale to tell shivering up to the sandbags with a highle stead of a spine don’t it seem funny the things you think air in the fern line we what Z Zoot Lord how the bullets whine hker and down when a star shell cracks in a sputter of light you
Can JW to Earth Soul by the sandbags most any old time night they talk so England’s glory and a Olden of our trade of Empire and IG Destiny until we’re Fair flim flammed but if it’s for the like so that that Bloody War is made
Then what I say as Empire and IG Destiny be damned there’s only one good cause bill for poor blokes like us to fight that’s self-defense for Earth and oh and them that bears our name and that’s what I may do in by the sandbags Air Tonight
Dot dot dot but Fritz out there will tell you he’s a doing of the same staring over the sandbags sick of the old damn thing fing to keep myself awake earing the bullets sing hiss twang sing Pang Saucy the bullets sing dreaman air by the sandbags of a day when war will
Cease when ANS and Fritz and Bill and me will clink our mugs and fraternity and the Brotherhood of Labor will be the Brotherhood of peace
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