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Ambling madly all over the town |
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The call to arms you likened to a whisper |
|
I likened to a radio |
|
You were a brickbat, a Bowery tough, so rough |
|
They culled you from a cartoon |
|
Pulled out of your pantaloons |
|
But you |
|
My brother in arms |
|
I'd rather I'd lose my limbs |
|
Than let you come to harm |
|
But you |
|
My bombazine doll |
|
The bullets may singe your skin |
|
And the mortars may fall |
|
But I |
|
I never felt so much life |
|
Than tonight |
|
Huddled in the trenches |
|
Gazing on the battlefield |
|
Our rifles blaze away |
|
We blaze away, oh |
|
Corporal Bradley of regiment five |
|
In proud array standing by the bathing |
|
Soldiers and the stevedores |
|
We laid on the mattress and tumbled to sleep |
|
Our eyes aligned, swaddled in our civvies |
|
Cradled in our dungarees |
|
But you |
|
My brother in arms |
|
I'd rather I'd lose my limbs |
|
Than let you come to harm |
|
But you |
|
My bombazine doll |
|
The bullets may singe your skin |
|
And the mortars may fall |
|
But I |
|
I never felt so much life |
|
Than tonight |
|
Huddled in the trenches |
|
Gazing on the battlefield |
|
Our rifles blaze away |
|
We blaze away, oh |
|
We blaze away, oh |
|
We blaze away, oh |