I Don't Want To Be A Soldier

Originale	Una versione risalente alle guerre napoleoniche, attribuita ai...
I DON'T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER I don't want to be a soldier I don't want to go to war. I would rather hang around Piccadilly's underground And live upon the earnings of a high born lady. I don't want a bullet up me arse hole, Nor want me bloomin' buttocks shot away. No, I'd rather stay in England, jolly, jolly England, And fornicate me bloomin' life away, Gor blimey!	I DON'T WANT TO BE A SOLDIER I don't want the Sergeant's shilling, (1) I don't want to be shot down; I'm really much more willing To make myself a killing, Living off the pickings of the Ladies of the Town; Don't want a bullet up my bumhole, Don't want my cobblers minced with ball; (2) For if I have to lose 'em Then let it be with Susan Or Meg or Peg or any whore at all, Gorblimey! On Monday I touched her on the ankle, On Tuesday I touched her on the knee; On Wednesday such caresses As I got inside her dresses, On Thursday she was moaning sweetly; On Friday I had my fingers in it, On Saturday she gave my balls a wrench; And on Sunday after supper, I had the fucker up her, And now she's got me up before the Bench, Gorblimey!
	Note: (1) "Sergeant's shilling": si riferisce ai reclutatori dell'esercito, alle The Press Gang che per qualche scellino, una sbronza e a suon di botte procuravano gli uomini da mandare alla guerra di turno... (2) Letteralmente: "Non voglio trovarmi con le palle spappolate da un colpo di fucile o di cannone".