Who's for the trench—Are you, my laddie?
Who'll follow French—Will you, my laddie?
Who's fretting to begin,
Who's going out to win?
And who wants to save his skin—Do you, my laddie?
Who's for the khaki suit—Are you, my laddie?
Who longs to charge and shoot—Do you, my laddie?
Who's keen on getting fit,
Who means to show his grit,
And who'd rather wait a bit—Would you, my laddie?
Who'll earn the Empire's thanks—Will you, my laddie?
Who'll swell the victor's ranks—Will you, my laddie?
When that procession comes,
Banners and rolling drums—Who'll stand and bite his thumbs—Will you, my laddie?
