| I don’t mind, please don’t misunderstand —
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| I know the score of war.
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| A soldiers' life is give and give
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| And then they ask for more.
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| Walking on the picket line
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| Where my comrades fell,
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| Holding up the thin-red-line
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| In the shot and shell.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| You know she understands.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| She’s the soldiers' friend.
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| I don’t mind the blistering heat,
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| I think I can endure.
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| It’s freezing cold and I can’t feel my feet —
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| Well, that’s the hell of war.
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| I never thought about the big red wound
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| When I saw my comrades fall.
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| Now I’m in this cold and lonely room
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| Wondering if I’ll live at all.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| You know she understands.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| She’s the soldiers' friend.
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| First they use us And then they throw us away.
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| Only this nightingale
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| Knows the price that we pay,
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| The lady with the tramp.
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| Excuse me please, a cup of tea,
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| I’ve such a terrible thirst.
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| Would you please come and sit with me,
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| I feel it’s come to the worst.
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| Write my mother that I love her so,
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| I can’t seem to hold the pen.
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| Take this keep-sake and send it home,
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| To those I’ll never see again.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| You know she understands.
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| The lady with the lamp,
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| She’s the soldiers' friend.
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| She will hold his hand,
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| Stay with him to the end.
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| You know she understands,
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| She’s the soldier’s friend. |