THE SHORES OF OLD BLIGHTY
(Graham Miles)
We're two hundred soldiers on a troop carrying ship,
All dressed in our uniforms brown,
We're all bound for Germany on a night trip,
Serving our nation and crown.CHORUS:
And the shores of old Blighty we're leaving behind,
The dim lights of Harwich are fading away,
When we get to Germany how will we find,
Life on a serviceman's pay, sergeant,
Life on a serviceman's pay.We're two hundred squaddies all barely but men,
And they've given us numbers instead of our names,
Oh how I wish I was back home again,
Each one is thinking the same.CHORUS
We're two hundred conscripts asleep down below,
Till the sergeant awakes us at dawn,
And the low lands of Holland by the rising sun show,
And it's down on the quay we must fall.CHORUS
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found on Google using "shores of old blighty" as search text.
Alex