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Me husband's in Salonika, I wonder if he's dead,
I wonder if he knows he has a kid with a foxy head?

So right away, so right away,
So right away to Salonika, right away me soldier boy.

Now when the war is over what will the slackers do?
They'll be all around the soldiers for the loan of a bob or two.

Now when the war is over what will the soldiers do?
They'll be walking around with leg and a half and slackers they'll have two.

They taxed our pound of butter, they taxed half penny bun,
But still with all their taxes, they can't bate the bloody hun.

They taxed the Coliseum, they taxed St. Mary's Hall,
Why don't they tax the bobbies with their backs against the wall.

Now when the war is over what will the slackers do?
For every kid in America in Cork there will be two.

They take us out to Blarney and lays us on the grass,
They puts us in the family way and leaves us on our ass.

There's lino on the Parlour and in the kitchen too,
There's a glass back chevonier that we got from Dicky Glue.

Now never marry a soldier, a sailor or a marine,
Now keep you eyes on the Sinn Fein Boy with his yellow, white and green.

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