| B.F.P.O.
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| Mammy's hero.
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| Our little army boy
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| Is coming home from B.F.P.O.
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| I've a bunch of purple flowers
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| To decorate a mammy's hero.
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| Mourning in the aerodrome,
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| The weather warmer, he is colder.
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| Four men in uniform
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| To carry home my little soldier.
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| What could he do? |
| Should have been a rock star.
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| But he didn't have the money for a guitar.
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| What could he do? |
| Should have been a politician.
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| But he never had a proper education.
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| What could he do? |
| Should have been a father.
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| But he never even made it to his twenties.
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| What a waste —
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| Army dreamers.
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| Ooh, what a waste of
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| Army dreamers.
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| Tears o'er a tin box.
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| Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know,
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| Like a chicken with a fox,
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| He couldn't win the war with ego.
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| Give the kid the pick of pips,
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| And give him all your stripes and ribbons.
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| Now he's sitting in his hole,
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| He might as well have buttons and bows.
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| "What could he do? Should have been a rock star.
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| But he didn't have the money for a guitar.
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| What could he do? |
| Should have been a politician.
|
| But he never had a proper education.
|
| What could he do? |
| Should have been a father.
|
| But he never even made it to his twenties.
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| What a waste —
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| Army dreamers.
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| Ooh, what a waste of
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| Army dreamers.
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| Ooh, what a waste of all that
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| Army dreamers,
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| Army dreamers,
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| Army dreamers, oh... |