All our fighting brothers are away across the foam,
Hats off to the Englishman!
Here's a chance for Englishmen living safe at home,
Make a lot of money while you can!
We are fighting for the Right and the Honour of the Race
With the Bulldog Grip they know;
Who's the silly novice there putting on the pace?
You'll be taken for a Yank — Go slow!
All the Nations know us as the finest of the Earth;
Three cheers for the lads in blue!
An’ we're drawing extra wages that are more than we are worth —
But a half-day's work will do.
The shades of England's fighting men are watching us with pride
As we live for England's fame;
To save us for posterity was why they went and died —
Oh! The War is a real fine game!
Let the War go rolling on alone for awhile,
Let the line stand fast in the West;
Let‘ em learn to use the bayonet in the grand old style,
While the Bulldog Boys have a rest.
What's the good of hurrying? British pluck'll win;
We can stand to the strain all right.
What about another rise? Send the notice in —
Just to show how the Bulldogs fight.
Chorus! all together — We're the finest race of all,
So beware of the English Blade;
Now the fighting men are gone — why, however many fall,
All the more for the lads that stayed.