| |
| I WENT into a public-’ouse to get a pint o’ beer, | |
| The publican ’e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.” | |
| The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die, | |
| I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I: | |
| O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”; | 5 |
| But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play— | |
| The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play, | |
| O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins,” when the band begins to play. | |
| |
| I went into a theatre as sober as could be, | |
| They gave a drunk civilian room, but ’adn’t none for me; | 10 |
| They sent me to the gallery or round the music-’alls, | |
| But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls! | |
| For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”; | |
| But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide— | |
| The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide, | 15 |
| O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide. | |
| |
| Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep | |
| Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap; | |
| An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit | |
| Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit. | 20 |
| Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ’ow’s yer soul?” | |
| But it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll— | |
| The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll, | |
| O it’s “Thin red line of ’eroes” when the drums begin to roll. | |
| |
| We aren’t no thin red ’eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too, | 25 |
| But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you; | |
| An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints, | |
| Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints; | |
| While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind,” | |
| But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind— | 30 |
| There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind, | |
| O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind. | |
| |
| You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all: | |
| We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational. | |
| Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face | 35 |
| The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace. | |
| For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!” | |
| But it’s “Saviour of ’is country” when the guns begin to shoot; | |
| An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please; | |
| An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool—you bet that Tommy sees! | 40 |
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