Here I am, here I am,
Patted and petted as though I were
A real live lord
In the convalescent ward.
It's a treat, lots to eat.
Who was it said we were short of meat?
But I felt queer
When I first got over here.
"What is the matter with you?" the M. O. said.
I said as they lifted me in my little bed:
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When the saucy little nursie
Tucks me in and calls me Percy,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
No complaints, no complaints.
Ev'ryone's satisfied, no complaints.
Just ask my chums
And you'll hear them all say 'Thumbs!'
Yesterday Lady Grey
Brought us some chocolates. Oh, I say!
Such lovely chocs!
We each had a three-pound box.
We guzzled those sweets till our faces all turned white,
Then, oh, what a casualty list there was that night!
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When they mop my brow with sponges
And they feed me on blancmanges,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When I think about my dugout
Where I dare not poke me mug out,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
Patted and petted as though I were
A real live lord
In the convalescent ward.
It's a treat, lots to eat.
Who was it said we were short of meat?
But I felt queer
When I first got over here.
"What is the matter with you?" the M. O. said.
I said as they lifted me in my little bed:
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When the saucy little nursie
Tucks me in and calls me Percy,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
No complaints, no complaints.
Ev'ryone's satisfied, no complaints.
Just ask my chums
And you'll hear them all say 'Thumbs!'
Yesterday Lady Grey
Brought us some chocolates. Oh, I say!
Such lovely chocs!
We each had a three-pound box.
We guzzled those sweets till our faces all turned white,
Then, oh, what a casualty list there was that night!
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When they mop my brow with sponges
And they feed me on blancmanges,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
I've a bit of a blighty one, but nothing to speak of,
A bit of a blighty one, that's all.
All through a splinter from a four-point-two,
I'm in blue, but I'm never feeling blue.
I'm having a cootchie time but nothing to speak of.
I'm treated like a long-lost son.
When I think about my dugout
Where I dare not poke me mug out,
Oh, I'm glad I've got this bit of a blighty one.
×
![]()
Note for non-Italian users: Sorry, though the interface of this website is translated into English, most commentaries and biographies are in Italian and/or in other languages like French, German, Spanish, Russian etc.
