  WE.ALL our fighting brothers are away across the foam, Hats off to the Englishman! Here's a chance for Englishmen living safe at home, Make a lot of money while you can! We are fighting for the Right and the Honour of the Race With the Bulldog Grip they know; Who's the silly novice there putting on the pace? You'll be taken for a Yank—Go slow! All the Nations know us as the finest of the Earth; Three cheers for the lads in blue! An' we're drawing extra wages that are more than we are worth— But a half-day's work will do. The shades of England's fighting men are watching us with pride As we live for England's fame; To save us for posterity was why they went and died— Oh! The War is a real fine game! Let the War go rolling on alone for awhile, Let the line stand fast in the West; Let 'em learn to use the bayonet in the grand old style, While the Bulldog Boys have a rest. What's the good of hurrying? British pluck'll win; We can stand to the strain all right. What about another rise? Send the notice in— Just to show how the Bulldogs fight. Chorus! all together—We're the finest race of all, So beware of the English Blade; Now the fighting men are gone—why, however many fall, All the more for the lads that stayed. |
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