I have a big French rifle, its stock is riddled clean,
And shrapnel-smashed its barrel, likewise its magazine.
I've lugged it from Bethune to Loos and back from Loos again,
I've found it on the battlefield amidst the soldiers slain.
A little battle souvenir for one across the foam
That's if the French authorities will let me take it home.

I've got a long, long sabre as sharp as any lance,
'Twas carried by a shepherd boy from somewhere South in France
Where grasses wave and poppy-flowers are red as blood is red.
I took the shepherd's sabre for the shepherd boy lay dead.
I'll take it back a souvenir to one across the foam
That's if the French authorities will let me take it home,
That's if our own authorities will give me leave for home!!!