There’s mud in the bacon, the rice, and the stew,
When you open an egg, you’ll find mud in it, too—
Sunny France!
There’s mud in the water, there’s mud in the tea,
There’s mud in your mess-kit as thick as can be,
It sticks to your fingers like leaves to a tree—
Sunny France!
Oh, the ruddy mud, the muddy mud, the mud that gets your goat,
The sliding mud, the gliding mud, that sprays your pants and coat!
It cakes in your mouth till you feel like an ox,