"(My daughter married young, and went her own way),
My sons are buried by the Burma railway"
Eric Bogle

Not a song, but a poem by Robert Service... "and the greasy smoke, like an inky cloak, went streaking down the sky."

"I've been a wild rover, for many a year..."
"Ouch, who threw that"..."aargh"...crash....boing... "alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going".....