Oh! What A Lovely War Page #8

Swinging the lead behind the line

Inky-pinky parlez-vous

It's a hell of a song that we've just sung

Parlez-vous

It's a hell of a song that we've just sung

Parlez-vous

It's a hell of a song that we've just sung

And the fellow that wrote it

ought to be hung

Inky-pinky parlez-vous

Oh, the moon shine bright

on Charlie Chaplin

His boots are cracking

For want of blacking

And his old baggy trousers

want mending

Before they send him to the Dardanelles

Oh, the moon shines bright

on Charlie Chaplin

His boots are cracking

For want of blacking

And his old baggy trousers

they want mending

Before they send him to the Dardanelles

Parade!

Parade!

Halt!

Left turn!

Put down arms!

Stand at ease!

Stand easy!

Hey, Corp!

You reinforcements?

Yeah. We're on our way up to Wipers.

Wouldrt go up there if I were you.

They've got a shortage.

What of? Ammunition?

No. Coffins.

Parade, attention!

One staff officer jumped right over

another staff officer's back

And another staff officer jumped

right over that other staff officer's back

A third staff officer jumped right over

two other staff officers' backs

And a fourth staff officer jumped right

over all the other staff officers' backs

One staff officer jumped right over

another staff officer's back

And another staff officer jumped right

over that other staff officer's back

A third staff officer jumped right over

two other staff officers' backs

And a fourth staff officer jumped right

over the other staff officers' backs

They were only playing leapfrog

They were only playing leapfrog

They were only playing leapfrog

When one staff officer jumped right over

another staff officer's back

They were only playing leapfrog

They were only playing leapfrog

They were only playing leapfrog

When one staff officer jumped right over

another staff officer's back

When one staff officer jumped right over

another staff officer's back

Hello. GOC-in-C here.

Clear the line, please.

Has the 8th Division

moved up on the right?

I see. Severe casualties.

No. You must reserve the artillery.

We're using too many shells.

Well, where is the 8th Division?

What?

I must have the 8th Division

forward on the right.

Thank you.

"70% casualties in the last attack.

"Then there is some corner of

a foreign field that is forever England."

Forward Joe Soap's army

Marching without fear

With our old commander

Safely in the rear

He boasts and skites

from morn till night

And thinks he's very brave

But the men who really did the job

Are dead and in their grave

Forward Joe Soap's army

Marching without fear

With our old commander

Safely in the rear

Amen

Take up your places! Straight through!

Dearly beloved brethren.

I'm sure you will be glad to hear

the news from the home front.

The Archbishop of Canterbury

has made it known

that it is no sin

to labour for war on the Sabbath.

And I'm sure

you would also like to know

that the Chief Rabbi has absolved

your Jewish brethren

from abstaining

from pork in the trenches.

Likewise, his holiness

the Pope has ruled

that the eating of flesh on Friday

is no longer a mortal sin.

- It's high time we had an Irish pope.

- You're right.

And in faraway Tibet,

the Dalai Lama has placed his prayers

at the disposal of the allies.

Now, brethren,

tomorrow being Good Friday,

we hope God will look kindly

on our attack.

We will now sing from

Hymns Ancient and Modern.

Number 358.

The Church's one foundation

We are the ragtime infantry

We cannot fight

We cannot shoot

What bleeding use are we?

And when we get to Berlin

To be his holy bride

And from his lot

What a bloody rotten lot

Are the ragtime infantry

Amen

Let us pray.

O God, show thy face to us

as thou didst with thy angel at Mons.

The choir will now sing

What a Friend We Have in Jesus,

as we offer a silent prayer

for success in tomorrow's onslaught.

- Amen.

- Amen.

When this lousy war is over

What a friend we have in Jesus

No more soldiering for me

All our sins and griefs to bear

When I get my ciwy clothes on

What a privilege to carry

Oh, how happy I shall be

Everything to God in prayer

No more church parades on a Sunday

Oh, what peace we often forfeit

No more putting in for leave

Oh, what needless pain we bear

I shall kiss the Sergeant Major

All because we do not carry

- How I'll miss him

- All to God

- In prayer

- How he'll grieve

Amen

Well, God,

the prospects for a successful attack

are now ideal.

I place myself in your hands.

Land of our birth.

Land of our birth.

The fields are full of tents, O Lord,

all empty as yet

except for unmade

and naked iron bedsteads.

Every ward has been cleared

to make way for the wounded

that will be arriving

when the big push comes.

The doctors say

there will be enormous numbers

of dead and wounded, God.

I ask thee for victory, Lord,

before the Americans arrive.

That we may bring, if need arise,

no maimed or won'thless sacrifice.

O Lord,

now lettest thou thy servant

depart in peace.

Parade, by squads!

Dismissed!

F squad, attention!

My troop, attention!

Whiter than the whitewash on the wall

Whiter than the whitewash on the wall

Oh, wash me in the water

that you wash your dirty daughter in

And I shall be whiter

than the whitewash on the wall

On the wall, on the wall

Oh, wash me in the water

that you wash your dirty daughter in

And I shall be whiter

than the whitewash on the wall

Quick march! Left, right, left, right!

Oh, wash me in the water

that you wash your dirty daughter in

And I shall be whiter

than the whitewash on the wall

On the wall, on the wall

On the wall, on the wall

O Lord, I beg you.

Do not let this dreadful war

cause all the suffering

that we have prepared for.

I know you will answer my prayer.

I want to go home

I want to go home

I don't want to go

in the trenches no more

Where whizzbangs and shrapnel

They whistle and roar

Take me over the sea

Where the alleyman can't get at me

Oh my, I don't want to die

I want to go home

Take me over the sea

Where the alleyman can't get at me

Oh my, I don't want to die

I want to go home

I thank you, God.

The attack is a great success.

Fighting has been severe,

but that was to be expected.

There has been some delay

along the Menin Road,

but the ground is thick with enemy dead.

First reports from

the clearing stations state

that our casualties

are only some 60,000,

mostly slight.

The wounded are very cheery indeed.

Well, that's the lot, then.

Right. Lead them off, Corporal Smith!

Right. Let's get back to the truck, lads.

Lead on this file.

Forward!

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

And the little devils

how they sing-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

Oh death

where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling

Oh grave, thy victory?

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling

For you but not for me

And the little devils

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