I Don't Want To Be A Soldier

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Una versione risalente alle guerre napoleoniche, attribuita ai...
I don't want to be a soldier,
I don't want to go to war,
I'd rather stay at home,
Around the streets to roam,
And live on the earnings of a lady typist.
I don't want a bayonet in my belly,
I don't want my bollocks shot away,
I'd rather stay in England,
In merry, merry England,
And fornicate my bleeding life away.


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,


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,


(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".

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