As I heard it:

FLANDERS MARCH

We marched along with guns on our backs.
The battle was yet before us.
With boots polished up and buttons ablaze,
We gathered together at Flanders.
We came in search of Ulhout and Hun,
To fight for King and for country;
But the Corporal said we'd soon be tired
Of the mud, the rain and the scurvy.

So gather up your armies.
Be ready for the fight.
The Kaiser wants the ring off my finger,
To pocket my freedom and sell it.
But he'll never get past the rim of my gun.
He'll fall dead first before us;
And we all agreed we'd blow him to hell
As we gathered together at Flanders.

The air was heavy with smoke and fumes
From the battle before our company;
And the mule that pulled our guns to the fight
Bent looking for grass beside me;
And the sun looked down, unwilling to shine
On the soldiers deep in the trenches;
And the Sergeant yelled, "We'll get 'em, me boys"
As we gathered together at Flanders.

So gather up your armies.
Be ready for the fight.
The Kaiser wants the ring off my finger,
To pocket my freedom and sell it;
But he'll never get past the rim of my gun.
He'll fall dead first before us.
As Johnny sang, "Pack Up Your Troubles",
We clung together at Flanders.

Well, where's the pride with the mud in your eye?
You still go looking for glory
When your friends start dying and crying with pain;
And the sun sank low in the western sky
As the night crept in up above us;
But the Corporal said, "There'll be light enough soon
When the guns start firing o'er us."

So gather up your armies.
Be ready for the fight.
The Kaiser wants the ring off my finger,
To pocket my freedom and sell it;
But he'll never get past the rim of my gun.
He'll fall dead first before us;
And we all agreed we'd blow him to hell
As we gathered together at Flanders.

All was quiet and all was still
As the sun drowned in his own fire;
And the only thing moving were pieces of paper
The wind blew over the barbed wire.
Then a shot rang out. We clung to the ground.
The mule shook in his bridle;
But the Sergeant said it was some silly bugger
Who couldn't look after his rifle.

So gather up your armies.
Be ready for the fight.
The Kaiser wants the ring off my finger,
To pocket my freedom and sell it;
But he'll never get past the rim of my gun.
He'll fall dead first before us.
As Johnny sang, "Pack Up Your Troubles",
We clung together at Flanders.