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THE GUNS
{Shivery-shake Dug-out, Maroc.)
There's a battery snug in the spinney,
A French seventy-five in the mine, A big nine-point-two in the village
Three miles to the rear of the line. The gunners will clean them at dawning
And slumber beside them all day, But the guns chant a chorus at sunset,
And then you should hear what they say.
Chorus.
Whizz bang! pip squeak ! ss-ss-st !
Big guns, little guns waken up to it.
We're in for heaps of trouble, dug-outs at
the double,
And stretcher-bearers ready to tend the
boys who're hit. 32 |
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