Peter Hunnisett

You wants me to tell you a story
Of who won the war, and why?
Well your Grandad ain't quite what he was boy,
But as you wants the truth well I'll try.
There's some things we'd like to forget lad.
There's things that your memory keeps green
Though they say I've "The Tap", I remembers
What happened since August fourteen.

You say that you've read all the histories!
Of who started the war and when
But you can't find out just who won it,
And why they won it - and then
You comes to your poor old Grandad
Who'll tell you the truth as you knows
Just wait till I've had my Quinine lad,
Twenty grains, that's better, here goes.

You see, it was like this, the Germans
Thought they'd like all the Earth to run,
So they started by walking through Belgium
Into France. Now look here my son,
It's no use of you interrupting,
And telling me you knows all that
I'm telling this story, not you, see
And I'm telling the truth, compree that?

It's never been put in the histories,
And the War Office records don't show
The why and the wherefore of winning,
But I was there, and I know.
I was just going to say when you stopped me
We bunged our lads over to France,
And we stopped Mr Fritz in his travels
And led him a hell of a dance.

We was keeping him busy when Turkey
Thought she'd like to come in the show,
Then Italy wanted a flutter,
Don't interrupt, you don't know.
Then old Johnny Bulgar got busy
And Serbia, well Serbia went "west"
So they sent some of us out to help 'em
I was one of 'em, one of the best.

It's a hell of a country, excuse me,
When I thinks of all I've gone through
In the country they call Macedonia,
Well, my language, it ain't fit for you.
We stewed in the sun in the summer,
We froze in the cold winter nights,
At a hundred and four with 'dingey',
We didn't enjoy ourselves quite.

And each day we read in the paper,
How the boys out there in the West
With their tanks and planes and gas shells
Were pounding old Fritz's nest,
While we out in Macedonia
Were doing ourselves real fine
Yes, with dysentery, dingey and suchlike
M and D, Castor Oil and Quinine.

Well, we stuck it as best we were able,
We went into dock and came out,
Did Con Camps and Rest Camps and stunts which,
As a kid, you knows nothing about.
Why, your Grandad once wangled the "Y" scheme
And his prospects of Blighty were gay,
But they tumbled he hadn't Malaria,
So they gave him a board, marked him "A".

Did I ever come home on leave, boy?
Did I leave Salonique? Did I hell!
Did you ever see an oyster
Come out for a walk from his shell?
It was like that with us, we was fixtures,
We was in but we couldn't get out,
And the chances we had of leaving
Was nothing to shout about.

The years went by, still we waited,
They said we was having a rest,
A-basking all day in the sunshine,
While the boys did the work in the West.
We'll admit they was doing some scrapping,
And at times catching Fritz on the bend,
But they never seemed to get nearer
What we wanted to see, "The End".

You see, we worked it out this way,
If we made Johnny Bulgar collapse
We could tie the Turk up and he'd chuck it,
Then we might get to Blighty, perhaps.
Course the Austrians, well, they'd be easy,
And without all the others, the Hun
Wouldn't stand very long on his lonesome
And the blooming old war would be won.

Well, we got fairly fed up with waiting,
So one day without any fuss
We went out and toused Johnny Bulgar,
We thought it was right up to us.
Gave him one in the neck, a good 'un,
Got him groggy and well on the run.
In a fortnight he'd chucked the old sponge up
And that's how the war was won.

You've asked for a story, you've got it,
Who won the war, now you can see,
Never mind what it says in the books, boy,
When you want the truth come to me.
Now you wants to know "Why" we won it
The reply you must surely perceive
The Salonika Force Won The War, Boy,
'Cause They Couldn't Get Home On Leave.