When this lousy war is over

Speranza

To the tune of "What a friend we have in Jesus"

when this lousy war is over
no more soldiering for me,
when I get my civvy clothes on
o how happy I shall be
no more church parades on Sunday
no more begging for a pass.
you can tell the sergeant-major to stick his passes up his arse.

no more NCOs to curse me
no more rotten army stew
you can tell the old cook-sergeant, to stick his stew right up his flue.

no more sergeants bawling pick it up & put it down
if I meet the ugly bastard I'll kick his arse all over town