They brought us from Australia,
To fight the Nazi Hun,
Who are once more on the War path
Well equipped with tank and gun,
They dumped us in Lybia,
Where the guide book says it's grand.
But forgot to mention little things,
Like flies and fleas and sand.
Tobruck was chosen as a place,
For us to strut our stuff,
Old Jerry soon beseiged it,
And began to treat us rough.
He dropped a kindly hint or two,
As to how we were to cop it,
Advising us to turn it in,
Forget the war and hop it.
Now being mad Australians,
We didn't like the "drum",
And he made things darn well hum,
Now some blokes took the final count,
and some joints got knocked about,
But the damage done,
As the Tommies say,
Was really bleeding now't.
He keeps on raiding with his planes,
Drops bombs and booby traps.
His soldiers sometimes make a move,
And the lads have front line scrap,
But months have passed, he must admit,
It seems like we are here to stay
"Till the Springboks come to join us,
Marching up from Bardia way.
Now when we are all at home again,
And this strife is over,
Some silly mug is sure to say,
"How did you win the war?"
You can look that bloke right in the face,
And pat the baby's curls,
Say "We defended all Tobruk,
Where there wasn't any girls".
Of all the units we have here,
There's one we'd like to toast,
They're always up to something,
But you'll never hear them boast.
It's grand to hear them working,
With a reverberating cheer,
We dip our lids sincerely,
To the good old Pioneer.
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