Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Sittin’ with my elbow on my knee. I orter be a polishin’ the meat-dish an’ the can — ( I orter draw the groceries — for I am ord'ly man!
But wot are bloomin’ ration calls, an’ wot's a pot or pan, When I'm dreaming O my darlin’ one, of thee? ) Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Firin’ at the rifle range I be.
I've missed a fust-class targit — an’ I've missed the‘ ill be'ind! I nearly shot a marker once! ( which was n't very kind ); The orficer‘ e swears at me — but re'ly, I do n't mind! I am dreamin’, O my darlin’ one, of thee!
Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Me, as was the smartest man in‘ B’! My kit is all untidy, and it's inches thick in dust; An’ my rifle's fouled an’ filthy, an’ my bay'nit' s red with rust;
They've tried to find the reason — but I've seen‘ em furder fust! An’ they never guess I'm dreamin’, dear, of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! They can n't make out wot's comin’ over me.
The fellows think I'm barmy, an’ the Major thinks it's drink, The Sergeant thought it laziness, so shoved me in the clink! The Colonel called it‘ thoughtlessness,’ so gave me time to think, An’ to dream again, my darlin’ one, of thee!
Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Wot's two‘ ours’ sentry-go to me? A sittin’ in the sentry-box, a-thinkin’ of your eyes, The ord'ly orficer come along, an’ took me by surprise!
‘ E said as I was sleepin’ — an’ the usual orfice lies! When I was on'y dreamin’, love, of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Dreamin’ of thee! Rubbin’ tarry oakum on my knee!
Oh, when I weigh that oakum in, I know I'll cop it‘ ot! I'll be‘ auled before the Gov'nor, an’ I'll git an‘ our's shot; But whether I git punishment, or whether I do not, They can n't prevent me dreamin’, love, of thee!
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