THE VETERANS LAMENT

As I passed by an aerodrome one rainy day
I met an old soldier with hair turning grey
I called him 'Old Timer' and gave a salute
He said "Don't salute me, I'm just a recruit"
Just a Recruit the War Office say
And all they allow me is two bob a day.

I looked at his ribbons he wore on his breast
For battles he'd fought in by East and by West
He looked a smart soldier from his head to his boots
And I felt proud to think that we had such recruits
"Just a Recruit" the Home Office say
And all they allow me is two bob a day.

I next saw a fellow who came up to me
Dressed in civvies with a badge A.R.P.
I said "What's your pay please, excuse my cheek"
He said "I'm Air Warden, it's three quid a week"
Three quid a week, that's what they pay
And the N.D.C. just get two bob a day.

When the wind whistles keen and the rain so hard
You'll find these old rookies still doing their guard
With Rifle and Bayonet they watch through the night
Doing their duty, p'raps too old to fight
Brave old recruits though some hairs are grey
Surely they're worth more than two bob a day.

With seven bob a week they leave to their wives
You bet they are living extravagant lives
A few pints of beer and a few fags to smoke
We're paid on Friday, by Monday we're broke
"Only Recruits" the War Office say
We can't lead gay lives on two bob a day.

Still we wont grouse, we're doing our bit
Our grub jolly good and so is our kit
And if Hitler could see us I know he would say
"Mein Gott, what good rookies for two bob a day"
Stick it 'Old Soldiers', the War Office may
Soon grant Old Timers, proficiency pay
Failing this and we're still feeling fit
We shall still carry on 'Doing our Bit'