Called to Arms by Sue Lee and John Meleady I'll tell you a tale of a bold bombardier If you have a mind for to listen For he went off to fight in a place called Crimea His name it was Frederick Smithson I was a Navigator bold With wars and such I did not hold Tho' I'd done me share of fightin' But only for what I'd a right in! We tramped Old England up and down And drank our fill in every town Up to our necks in flooded ditches Sleeping rough with whores and bitches There came a troop of soldiers grand With pipes and drums, a merry band Come join us lads, for Queen and country You'll earn medals and gold a-plenty! They shipped us out of Portsmouth town And the seas were rough on our way down Then passing through the Dardanelles God our eyes were opened, so this was hell! So deep was the mud, the bodies, the blood The cannon fire never ending Thick smoke, hard rain, the hunger and pain By God this ain't what I call fighting We had no loyalty in mind Uniting soldiers of our kind No Queen or country touched our lives One single thought, just to survive And where was the glory, honour and pride To comfort the souls of those who died Where the brave flowers of Victorian youth? Slaughtered, betrayed by their country, in truth! Recorded on :
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