The Little Piou-piou

* The French "Tommy".      Oh, some of us lolled in the chateau,      And some of us slinked in the slum;      But now we are here with a song and a cheer      To serve at the sign of the drum.      They put us in trousers of scarlet,      In big sloppy ulsters of blue;      In boots that are flat, a box of a hat,      And they call us the little piou-piou,             Piou-piou,      The laughing and quaffing piou-piou,      The swinging and singing piou-piou;      And so with a rattle we march to the battle,      The weary but cheery piou-piou.         Encore un petit verre de vin,         Pour nous mettre en route;         Encore un petit verre de vin         Pour nous mettre en train.      They drive us head-on for the slaughter;      We haven't got much of a chance;      The issue looks bad, but we're awfully glad      To battle and die for La France.      For some must be killed, that is certain;      There's only one's duty to do;      So we leap to the fray in the glorious way      They expect of the little piou-piou.             En avant!      The way of the gallant piou-piou,      The dashing and smashing piou-piou;      The way grim and gory that leads us to glory      Is the way of the little piou-piou.         Allons, enfants de la Patrie,         Le jour de gloire est arriv.      To-day you would scarce recognise us,      Such veterans war-wise are we;      So grimy and hard, so calloused and scarred,      So "crummy", yet gay as can be.      We've finished with trousers of scarlet,      They're giving us breeches of blue,      With a helmet instead of a cap on our head,      Yet still we're the little piou-piou.             Nous les aurons!      The jesting, unresting piou-piou;      The cheering, unfearing piou-piou;      The keep-your-head-level and fight-like-the-devil;      The dying, defying piou-piou.          la bayonette! Jusqu' la mort!         Sonnez la charge, clairons!