As I was walking down the lane, I feeling fine and larky, oh,
A recruiting sergeant said to me, "Wouldn't you look fine in khaki, oh!
Oh, the King he is need of men, come read me proclamation, oh,
And the life in Flanders for ya then, will be a fine vacation, oh.

"That may be so", says I to him, "But tell me, Sergeant dearie, oh,
If I'd the pack stuck on me back, would I look fine and cheery, oh?
Oh, you'd make me drill and train until ya had me one of French's, oh,
Well, it may be warm in Flanders, but it's draughty in the trenches, oh."

The sergeant swung his wee bit cane, his smile was most provoking, oh,
He twiddled and twiddled his wee moustache, says he, "I know you're joking, oh,
For the sandbags are so high and dry, the wind you won't feel blowing, oh"
But I winked at a coolean passing by and says I, "What if it's snowing, oh?"

"Well, come wind or rain or sleet or snow, we're not going out to Flanders, oh,
For there's fighting in Dublin to be done, let your privates and commanders go,
And let Englishmen for England's wars, it's nearly time they started, oh",
So I bade the sergeant a jolly good night, and there and then we parted, oh.