We

WE.

All our fighting brothers are away across the foam, Hats off to the Englishman! Here's a chance for Englishmen living safe at home, Make a lot of money while you can!

We are fighting for the Right and the Honour of the Race With the Bulldog Grip they know; Who's the silly novice there putting on the pace? You'll be taken for a Yank--Go slow!

All the Nations know us as the finest of the Earth; Three cheers for the lads in blue! An' we're drawing extra wages that are more than we are worth-- But a half-day's work will do.

The shades of England's fighting men are watching us with pride As we live for England's fame; To save us for posterity was why they went and died-- Oh! The War is a real fine game!

Let the War go rolling on alone for awhile, Let the line stand fast in the West; Let 'em learn to use the bayonet in the grand old style, While the Bulldog Boys have a rest.

What's the good of hurrying? British pluck'll win; We can stand to the strain all right. What about another rise? Send the notice in-- Just to show how the Bulldogs fight.

Chorus! all together--We're the finest race of all, So beware of the English Blade; Now the fighting men are gone--why, however many fall, All the more for the lads that stayed.