Of fighting I was never fond, I always loved my neighbour, And had little thought or care beyond My very well-paid labour. But now, alas! with many a sob A soldier here I find me, And the one who's pinched my cushy job Is the girl I left behind me! I am a conscientious lad, I jab Huns without ardour; And I only jab at them because I know they'd jab me harder. But as I draw my bob a day It serves but to remind me Of the things I'd like to do, and say To the girl I left behind me! If she'd come over here, and be a WAAC, Why, then, I'd be in clover! For my cushy job I could get back As soon's the war is over. Some friendly shell might do the trick And from my woes unbind me, Or a kindly Boche his bayonet stick In the girl I left behind me! I hoped to live a tranquil life - It was my one ambition - And I never dreamt that blows and strife Would be my earthly mission. But though I am a man of peace, And fain would not unkind be, Yet I long for the premature decease Of the girl I left behind me!
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