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Rosie, I wish that you were here |
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I miss you so much |
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Rosie, my dear |
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Rosie, I miss the hell that we raised |
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And the trails that we blazed |
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I miss the other half of me |
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My Rosie |
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Rosie, we played our song to death |
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Now the piano's out of tune |
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And the singer's out of breath |
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Rosie, do you love me still |
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Rosie, my little daffodil |
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I was a lanky private |
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Who thought he knew it all |
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Swept off his feet by a right Bobby Dazzler |
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The RAF and the WREN |
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Like old mother hens |
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Strutting through our lives going..... |
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Quack, quack, quack |
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Private who? |
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Quack, quack, quack |
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He's no good for you |
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Those were the years |
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When beer was beer |
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And you knew where you stood |
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The laughing stock of the neighborhood |
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Down at the local Palais |
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Me and the lads were having a knees up |
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I turns round to Harry |
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What's that noise rattling the tea cups |
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Better get your head down |
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Sounds like another V.1. |
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Everyone was screaming and shouting |
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And making the most appalling noise |
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So not unnaturally |
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I popped out to see exactly what had happened |
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Somebody said that the bomb |
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Had missed the Palais by inches |
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But had totally destroyed the next street |
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The next street |
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We live in the next street |
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Rosie, Rosie |
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Rosie, I wish you were here |
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I miss you so much |
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Rosie, my dear |
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Rosie, do you love me still |
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Rosie, my broken daffodil |
