Jack Dunn, son of a gun, over in France today, Keeps fit doing his bit up to his eyes in clay. Each night after a fight to pass the time along, He’s got a little gramophone that plays this song:
Take me back to dear old Blighty! Put me on the train for London town! Take me over there, Drop me ANYWHERE, Liverpool, Leeds, or Birmingham, well, I don’t care!
I should love to see my best girl, Cuddling up again we soon should be,
iddley Tiddley ighty, Hurry me home to Blighty, Blighty is the place for me!