THE PEATBOG SOLDIERS

Far and wide as the eye can wander
Heath and bog are everywhere
Not a bird sings out to cheer us
Oaks are standing gaunt and bare

CHORUS
We are the peat-bog soldiers
were marching with our spades to the moor

Up and down the guards are pacing,
No one, no one can go through.
Flight would mean a sure death facing;
Guns and barbed wire greet our view.

But for us there's no complaining,
Winter will in time be past;
One day we shall cry rejoicing,
Homeland dear, you're mine at last!'

(Final chorus)

Then will the peat-bog soldiers
March no more with their spades
To the moor.