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letra de trench tales - the young'uns

[intro]
we are three singing soldiers and now here we are again
we survived the great war, boys, and now we’ve come to spain
so crunch on your carbunchies lads, and drink that canteen dry
comrade one
’salud!’
your time has come, make those tonsils fly

[verse 1]
wally tapsell was a london lad as honest as they come
and when they picked the commissars they said he could be one
so he bought a pair of thigh-high boots, long and laced and lean
and each night he left them by the door for someonе else to clean
now onе night as i was standing guard along comes barney shields
i think he was the drunkest man that i have ever seen
then barney whips his johnson out, he swivels and he shoots
in no time at all he’s missed the wall and filled up wally’s boots

[refrain]
ah ya da da da da da da da da da da da da da

[verse 2]
now here’s a little ditty for our four legged furry friends
let’s hear it for the mules, me boys, they’re with us till the end
and here’s to the brave muleteers boys – the lads who make them go
but there’s one mule to break the rule, his name you all should know
well i reckon he’s a turncoat and now so do all the men
’cause when we’re near the enemy he tries to run to them
well i says to bob ’that mule’s a spy, what shall we call him?’
‘well he trots towards the fascists so let’s call him chamberlain!’
[refrain]
ah ya da da da da da da da da da da da da da

[verse 3]
our cook is hooky walker and one day he says to john
’young longstaff, do you like a drop, are you a drinking man?’
when johnny said he hardly supped, well, hooky smiles with glee
‘then you can fetch the vino, boy, for all the company!’
so johnny sets off into town with empty jars in store
he filled each one up to the brim till he was feeling sore
so he tried a little drop himself, he sucked it thirstily
and we found him three hours later, boys, ‘sleep beneath a tree!

[refrain]
ah ya da da da da da da da da da da da da da

[outro]
so now you’ve heard our stories, lads, and now our song is done
aviones are all swooping, boys, it’s time that we were gone
wherever heads are drooping low and men lie in despair
in times of war when hearts are sore, we’ll be singing there

- the younguns

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