Oh! What A Lovely War Page #3

Ex-Colour Sergeant Smith,

King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry.

- Splendid.

- One, please. Dalby, Gwen.

Thank you.

Smith, Bertram Biddle.

Come on.

Come down off of there.

- Jack, here.

- Hello.

Come on.

Don't be daft, we're on holiday.

Harry.

Hot potatoes!

Hot potatoes!

Here, Freddie.

Potatoes!

George!

No.

George.

Grandpa, look, there's a soldier.

Mesdames et messieurs,

presenting for your

greatest entertainment,

the most fantastic spectacle

of the world today,

the arme franaise in all its glory!

Its banners, its uniforms will pass now

before your very eyes. Rideau!

- Bonjour, soldier.

- Bonjour, mon colonel.

- It's a good day for the chase.

- We await your orders.

A battle won is a battle in which

one will not confess oneself beaten.

A silly German sausage dreamt

Napoleon he'd be

Then he went and broke his promise

It was made in Germany

He shook hands with Britannia

and eternal peace he swore

Naughty boy, he talked of peace

while he prepared for war

His warships sailed upon the sea

they looked a pretty sight

But when they heard the bulldog bark

they disappeared from sight

The Kaiser said, 'Be careful

if by Jellicoe they're seen

'Then every man-of-war I've got

'Will be a submarine'

Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser

Europe took the stick

and made him sore

On his throne it hurts to sit

And when John Bull starts to hit

He will never sit upon it anymore

He'll have to go to school again

and learn his geography

He quite forgot Britannia

and the hands across the sea

Australia and Canada

the Russian and the Jap

And England looked so small

he couldn't see her on the map

For Belgium put the kibosh

on the Kaiser

Europe took the stick

and made him sore

We shall shout with victory's joy

Hold your hand out, naughty boy

You must never play

at soldiers anymore

He'll never sit upon it anymore

Belgium put the kibosh on the Kaiser

Europe took a stick and made him sore

On his throne it hurts to sit

And when John Bull starts to hit

He will never sit upon it anymore

On his throne it hurts to sit

And when John Bull starts to hit

He will never sit upon it

He will never sit upon it

He will never sit upon it...

Paper! Paper!

Brussels falls!

Brussels falls!

- Paper! Paper!

- Here, boy!

Paper! Read all about it! Brussels falls!

'The battlefield is unbelievable.

'Heaps of corpses lying everywhere,

rifles in hand.

'Thousands of dead in row after row.

'Night has fallen,

and the rain has started.

'Shells are bursting and screaming.

'Artillery fire is the worst.

'We are all utterly exhausted.

'I lie at night

listening to the wounded groaning.

'The cannonading goes on and on.

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