WE

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.