The Peat Bog Soldiers (Traditional) Hamish, Derek, Ian line-up
Far and wide as the eye can wander,
Peat and moor are everywhere.
Not a bird flies out to greet us.
Trees are standing gaunt and bare.
We are the peat bog soldiers,
We're marching with our spades to the moor.
Up and down the guards are pacing,
No one, no one, can get through.
Flight would mean a short death facing,
Guns and barbed wire guard our view.
We are the peat bog soldiers,
We're marching with our spades to the moor.
But for us there is no complaining,
Winter will in time be past.
Then once more we can stand rejoicing.
Homeland, dear, you're mine at last
We are the peat bog soldiers,
We're marching with our spades to the moor.
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