The same old markets, same old crowd.
The same old marrers, same old me,
But 'er as proud as proud....
The regiment is where it was,
I'm in the same old ninth platoon;
New faces most, and keen becos
They 'ope the thing is ending soon;
I ain't complaining, mind, but still,
When later on some newish bloke
Stops one and laughs, "A blighty, Bill,"