I Pity the Poor British Soldier - Kirk Kelly
I pity the poor British soldier
Who must contain his nation's guilt
In the first and the last of an empire built
By not caring how much or whose blood must be spilled.
Yes, I pity the poor British soldier.
From those he protects he gets no support
Unless he has something good to report.
One more notch in his gun, one more life cut short.
Yes, I pity the poor British soldier.
He lives and he dies at the end of a gun,
And there's nothing to boast when his duty is done.'
And the blood on both sides, once spilled, becomes one
Yes, I pity the poor British soldier.
Plucked in his prime from a liverpool street
A garbage can tips and his heart skips a beat.
"Oh, just two more weeks and my tour is complete."
Yes, I pity the poor British soldier.
I pity this man that I have in my sight.
The one who will drop when my shot shakes the night.
Though deep in my heart I know I am right,
Still, I pity the poor British soldier.
© 1983 by Kirk P. Kelly