re: #43 Lidane

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I so want to slap every fucking Republican I have ever heard claim that they were “for the troops”.

I’m a vet.

I KNOW BETTER you rat bastards and this is just the latest proof of your hatred for the soldiers out there dying for your profits.

Fuck you, GOP!

Tommy

I went into a public house to get a pint o’ beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but hadn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-halls,
But when it comes to fighting, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,
The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

Yes, making mock of uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, and they’re starvation cheap;
And hustling drunken soldiers when they’re going large a bit
Is five times better business than parading in full kit.
Then it’s Tommy this, and Tommy that, and “Tommy, how’s yer soul?”
But it’s “Thin red line of heroes” when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it’s “Thin red line of heroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren’t no thin red heroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barracks, most remarkable like you;
And if sometimes our conduct isn’t all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barracks don’t grow into plaster saints;
While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind”,
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind,
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind.

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all:
We’ll wait for extra rations if you treat us rational.
Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country” when the guns begin to shoot;
And it’s Tommy this, and Tommy that, and anything you please;
And Tommy ain’t a blooming fool — you bet that Tommy sees!