Robert William Service - Funk lyrics

When your marrer bone seems 'oller, And you're glad you ain't no taller, And you're all a-shakin' like you 'ad the chills; When your skin creeps like a pullet's, And you're duckin' all the bullets, And you're green as gorgonzola round the gills; When your legs seem made of jelly, And you're squeamish in the belly, And you want to turn about and do a bunk: For Gawd's sake, kid, don't show it! Don't let your mateys know it -- You're just sufferin' from funk, funk, funk. Of course there's no denyin' That it ain't so easy tryin' To grin and grip your rifle by the bu*t, When the 'ole world rips asunder, And you sees yer pal go under, As a bunch of shrapnel sprays 'im on the nut; I admit it's 'ard contrivin' When you 'ears the shells arrivin', To discover you're a bloomin' bit o' spunk; But, my lad, you've got to do it, And your God will see you through it, For wot 'E 'ates is funk, funk, funk. So stand up, son; look gritty, And just 'um a lively ditty, And only be afraid to be afraid; Just 'old yer rifle steady, And 'ave yer bay'nit ready, For that's the way good soldier-men is made. And if you 'as to die, As it sometimes 'appens, why, Far better die a 'ero than a skunk; A-doin' of yer bit, And so -- to 'ell with it, There ain't no bloomin' funk, funk, funk.