It was an August morning on the Western front,
And the grass was the only thing moving ' cept the wind-blown trumpet
In the hand of a dead man,
Died like a virgin as it never had a chance to make a sound.
Siggy Thompson's photo of the wife and kids was taken from the father
Who was blown to bits- is that a hero's death.
Well tell him now as he might not fell like joining.
Oh! what a lovely war, what it for,
Let's have another one,
Oh! what a lovely war, what it for,
Let's have another one,
Daddy's head resting in a strawberry bed, what price his medal,
When it's piecerd by lead,
For what General said and the pension clerk shows a cold smile
While you're waiting.
Ten thousand men died here today in mud with rats and sandbags were
The only friend to those men in the end,
What goods a poppy if your six months dying,
Oh! what a lovely war, what it for,
Let's have another one,
Oh! what a lovely war, what it for,
Let's have another one,
It was an August morning 1942, young
Thompson was a member
Of a gun crew,
Like the dad he never knew,
It's all so bloody stupid like a deat- wish
Born for dying.
