My Job

 I've got a little job on 'and, the time is drawin' nigh;
 At seven by the Captain's watch I'm due to go and do it;
I wants to 'ave it nice and neat, and pleasin' to the eye,
 And I 'opes the God of soldier men will see me safely through it.

Because, you see, it's somethin' I 'ave never done before;
 And till you 'as experience noo stunts is always tryin';
The chances is I'll never 'ave to do it any more:
 At seven by the Captain's watch my little job is .
 .
 .
 dyin'.


I've got a little note to write; I'd best begin it now.

 I ain't much good at writin' notes, but here goes: "Dearest Mother,
I've been in many 'ot old `do's'; I've scraped through safe some'ow,
 But now I'm on the very point of tacklin' another.

A little job of hand-grenades; they called for volunteers.

 They picked me out; I'm proud of it; it seems a trifle dicky.

If anythin' should 'appen, well, there ain't no call for tears,
 And so .
 .
 .
 I 'opes this finds you well.
 -- Your werry lovin' Micky.
"

I've got a little score to settle wiv them swine out there.

 I've 'ad so many of me pals done in it's quite upset me.

I've seen so much of bloody death I don't seem for to care,
 If I can only even up, how soon the blighters get me.

I'm sorry for them perishers that corpses in a bed;
 I only 'opes mine's short and sweet, no linger-longer-lyin';
I've made a mess of life, but now I'll try to make instead .
 .
 .

 It's seven sharp.
 Good-bye, old pals! .
 .
 .
 a decent job in dyin'.

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