Anywhere but here, Ned,
Any bloomin hole,
Golly! if it aint like tearin
Body from yer soul!
War's a bloomin sight too wearin:
Home for William Towl!
Once I uster think our village
Took the prize for dead,
Now I know it wor a Para-
-dise around me head;
Do n't I wish as I could see it —
Just a minute — Ned!
Did I iver cuss my luck
Fer comin’ fore the Bench;
Doin what I did fer poachin,
Arter this ole trench
Would be like a holiday
At seaside wi’ a wench.
This is Hell, boy, do n't ferget it,
Hell wi'out the fun,
Let me see a plough agen
An you can ev my gun;
You'll hear me shout across the sea
When this damn war is done.