- those gallant soldiers dressed in red -
who went to war with colours flying
with ne'er a thought of wounds or dying:
foot soldiers marching in their ranks,
so long before the time of tanks,
and backed by dashing cavalry,
- the one in charge was always me.
Bravely they fought until they won
- always before the day was done.
What happened then? They went to bed
like all good soldiers made of lead.
