It's hunderedth year sin' Waterloo, Mam,
When all't regiments stood their ground
An now we're 'ere in Gallipoli, Mam,
Feightin' another round.
Tha'll 'ave read about it in all't papers,
But now thee shall 'ere it from me:
It's a far longer battle nor Waterloo,
An there in't no victory.
Harry an' Tom an' Squintin' Dick,
Are lyin' dead on W beach, Mam,
But Sam's OK and the rest, we pray,
Will fight on as best we can
To carry the war to Constantinople,
An' finish ' war in th' east,
So mi brother Bert in th' Flanders dirt
Can can hold back th' Hun at least.
But I miss owd Harry and Tom an' Dick,
An', Mam, I miss you all at 'ome;
I wish we'd get on wi' our victory parade,
Past Haggia Sophia's dome!
I'll send thee a postcard from Constantinople,
As soon as we feight our way through,
But this feightin's rough an' we aren't enough,
An this sure ain't Waterloo!
© Michael Higgins
