Hmm, ah ooh, ah ooh... (B.F.P.O) Hmm, ah ooh, ah ooh... (Mammy's hero) Our little army boy Is coming home from B.F.P.O. I've a bunch of purple flowers To decorate a mammy's hero. Mourning in the aerodrome, The weather warmer, he is colder. Four men in uniform To carry home my little soldier. "What could he do? Should have been a rock star." But he didn't have the money for a guitar. "What could he do? Should have been a politician." But he never had a proper education. "What could he do? Should have been a father." But he never even made it to his twenties. What a waste -- Army dreamers. What a waste -- Army dreamers. Hmm, ah ooh, ah ooh... (B.F.P.O) Hmm, ah ooh, ah ooh... (Mammy's hero) Tears o'er a tin box. Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know, Like a chicken with a fox, He couldn't win the war with ego. Give the kid the pick of pips, And give him all your stripes and ribbons. Now he's sitting in his hole, He might as well have bu*tons and bows. "What could he do? Should have been a rock star." But he didn't have the money for a guitar. "What could he do? Should have been a politician." But he never had a proper education. "What could he do? Should have been a father." But he never even made it to his twenties. What a waste -- Army dreamers. Oh What a waste of Army dreamers. Oh What a waste of Army dreamers. Army dreamers. Army dreamers.