So, was MacColl the author?

Inconclusive. Here's what Peggy Seeger says in The Essential Ewan MacColl Songbook: Sixty Years of Songmaking (Oak Publications, 2001), pp 306-307:

THE SECOND FRONT SONG (1943-1944) Ewan always maintained that this song, a racy and concise account of a premature homecoming, was the work of men serving in a regiment of the Black Watch —but it has his unmistakable stamp on it. If I am wrong about this, I would like the real author to come forward. Both during and after the war there was some con?ict between U.S.A. troops and UK. swaddies, fuelled chie?y by the fact that the former had more money than the latter, money with which to buy food and goods unavailable to wartime and post-war Britons. This gave the Yanks an image and privileges which tended to attract British women. Feelings ran high and were not improved by the tact that these foreign troops stayed in Britain quite a long time alter the war (see also “Leave Me, Yankee Man, Leave Me”). By I945, singing of this song was forbidden in pubs frequented by both sets of soldiers and a riot was narrowly averted on VE night when a thousand fighting men defied the authorities by chanting its chorus in the Leeds Civic Centre. tune: traditional English (“The Knickerbocker Line") new words and trad. arr.: Ewan MacColl @ 1978 Ewan MacColl, Ltd. disc 8, 12, 14

THE SECOND FRONT SONG
(Ewan MacColl)

Now me boys, if you will listen, I'll sing you a little song,
So sit you clown awhile here, I won’t detain you long;
I was serving in the infantry, was told I would receive
With all the other blokes a weekends eembarkation leave.

CHORUS
It's here. chum, it's here. chum, it's the Second Front for you,
In spite of their old Atlantic Wall, we're the boys to see it through.
It won’t take long to finish it when we have got their range.
And then we can all go home and live like humans for a change.

I packed me bag at the double and I was ready soon;
I took my place in an army truck with the rest of my platoon.
Nobody made much noise that trip, the driver he did blind,
We were all too busy thinking of the ones we’d left behind.
CHORUS

We reached the railway station, the queue was three miles long;
They'd have ?lled the Wembley Stadium and still left quite a throng.
"It's every man for himself, lads!” cried Corporal McShane;
So we rushed that crowd with a roar and tore our way into the train.

We were all packed in the corridor, it was eighty in the shade;
The seats had all been taken by the chewing—gum brigade.
They smoked their Camel cigarettes and petted with their janes,
And looked at us as though we were something crept out of the drains.

For eleven long hours we stood there and watched the fields go by;
We were packed so close we couldn’t even smoke. and that’s no lie.
And all the time the Yanks talked big and boasted they were tops,
And wrestled with their judies now and then between the stops.

CHORUS

At last the train reached Manchester, the station was Exchange;
It was too late to get a car or bus to Whalley Range.
to flag a taxi but l didn’t stand a chance —
They'd all been commandeered to take the Yanks home from a dance

So I humped me pack upon me back and made to cross the street
And just escaped a sudden death from a madly driven jeep;
But the thought of Nellie waiting there made happiness arise,
And my heart was beating pleasantly at the thought of her surprise.

I let myself in quietly and tiptoed up the stairs—
The thought of being home again had banished all my cares.
In the bedroom then I murmured, “Nell, your soldier boy has come.”
When a voice replied, in sharp surprise, “Say, Nell, who is this bum?”

For a moment I stood speechless and rooted to the ground.
And then I switched the light on, and what do you think I found?
My little Nell was lying there, exposing all her charms
Like the famous whore of Babylon — in a Yankee M.P.’s arms.

CHORUS

This geezer looked me over and then sat bolt upright:
He was wearing my pyjamas (the ones with the purple stripes).
He made a sudden movement and tried to grab his gun,
When I landed him a good straight left and stopped his bleeding fun.

And then I waded in, me boys, and pasted him like hell;
That bastard lost so many teeth he couldn’t even yell.
I kicked him down the stairs, me lads, and out into the street.
That geezer must have thought it was the middle of next week.

My story’s nearly over, there's little left to tell—
I wasn’t wearing any overtures from little Nell.
And every time I think of her, with grief my body fills . . .
But she'll do all right as long as there’s a Yank to pay the bills.

CHORUS



Music note: The chorus is sung to the same tune as the verse, although there are some very different internal rhythms. Despite the fact that this song has the same tune as "Roll Up the Coal Up," there are many different rhythms and inflections needed ot adapt the melody to the text. It is also interesting to see how the same tune can accommodate two such contrasting ideas.