THE SOMME

 

Jimmy has gone off

To fight at the Somme

Its six months this Christmas

Since heís been gone

Iíve neíer got a letter

Not even a note

Since he waved me goodbye

From the passenger boat

 

Iíve read in the papers

It really is hell

The bullets and bayonets

The mortars and shells

I hope that his officerís

Honest and good

And heís saying his prayers

Like a good squaddie should

 

Although heís a waster

Iím worrying still

If the bullets donít get him

The mademoiselles will

 

The baby is lying

Asleep in his cot

Wrapped in a shift

Sure heís all that Iíve got

When I sing him to sleep

He gives me a smile

And I tell him that daddyíll be

Home in a while

 

I remember the parties

And bright coloured frocks

And the good times we had

When he worked on the docks

But his cupís on the dresser

And boots by the hob

And Iím tempted to hock them

To raise a few bob

 

Although heís a waster

Iím worrying still

If the bullets donít get him

The mademoiselles will

 

I hope he remembers

To keep his head down

Whenever the Hun sends

His barrages Ďround

I hope he remembers

To keep his gun clean

No matter the weather

Nor places heís been

 

I hope that heís missing

Me petticoat strings

Me blouse and me bodice

And feminine things

The courting and talking

And evenings long

When heíd ask me to sing him

His favourite song

 

Although heís a waster

Iím worrying still

If the bullets donít get him

the mademoiselles will