I long for the streets but the Lord knoweth best
For there I am never a saint
There are lovable characters out in the West
With humour heroic and quaint
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back
When I shall have gone to my Home
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam
There are lovable characters drag through the scrub
Where the Optimist ever prevails
There are lovable characters hang round the pub
There are lovable jokers at sales
Where the auctioneer's one of the lovable wags
(Maybe from his "order" estranged)
And the beer is on tap, and the pigs in the bags
Of the purchasing co*kies are changed
There were lovable characters out in the West
Of fifty hot summers, or more
Who could not be proved, when it came to the test
Too old to be sent to the war
They were all forty-five and were orphans, they said
With no one to keep them, or keep
And mostly in France, with the world's bravest dead
Those lovable characters sleep
I long for the streets, but the Lord knoweth best
For there I am never a saint
There are lovable characters out in the West
With humour heroic and quaint
And, be it Up Country, or be it Out Back
When I shall have gone to my Home
I trust to be buried 'twixt River and Track
Where my lovable characters roam