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Sarge I think I'm buggered,
I'm bitten on me back,
a bloody snakes bin crawlin' thru the grass. |
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So call the Medic quick,
to give me arm a prick,
and take away the pain until I pass. |
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Yer mate the Bombardier,
can have me 'ish' of beer,
I won't be drinkin' Fosters when I go. |
I've wrote me mum a note,
and I've put it in me pack,
she's livin' down near Kunga-munga-mo. |
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So tell me Aussie mates,
you'ze Kiwi bloody skates,
have caused the death of one of Anzac's finest. |
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And when I pass away,
don't put me in the clay,
the bloody dingo's here are rife as goats. |
What's that you bloody say,
the choppers on its' way,
it won't be here in time to save this Digger. |
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The Doc he said it's what?
Now how did that get there?
A tear tab from a beer can caused this wound? |
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Well, the pain will pass away,
and I'll fight another day,
but PLEEZE you'ze Kiwi's keep this to yourselves! |
© Mike Subritzky - The Flak Jacket Collection |
