Cassidy – Private Michael Cassidy

Oh! Private Michael Cassidy, bedad! and that's the bhoy,
Who's known to all the Irish Guards as Kitchener's pride and joy
While on the march you'll hear him shout, "Who's going to win the war?"
And this is what the khaki lads all answer with a roar:

Cassidy! Private Michael Cassidy! 
He is of Irish nationality 
He's the boy of wonderful audacity
Private Michael Cassidy VC

Who is it should be decorated like a Christmas tree 
With gold and silver medals for his deeds of bravery?
Who is it wins the VC over fifty times a day
But never has the luck to make the general look his way 

Who was it had a dozen Germans sticking all secure
Yes sticking on his bayonet as though it were a skewer 
Who was it when they doubted of the number he had slain
Went out and dug the Germans up and killed them all again

Extra verses
Who was it when he found his boots were leaking t‘other day
Went out to get a new pair from a German straight away?
Who was it came back late and said, "I must apologise,
I had to kill nineteen of them before I got my size”?
 .
Who was it went to Kitchener and said, “My lord, I hear
We’re short of Ammunition, and I‘ve struck a big idea.
On every shell we fire at them let’s put a lump of chain
Then when we've killed the dirty dogs we'll pull it back again”?
 
Who was it in the charge would give the Huns what they deserve,
But seemed to use his bayonet with a funny kind of curve,
An though upon their waistcoat: he was carrying some design,
 
The little children idolise him down in Donegal,
And with a piece of chalk chalk they draw his photo on the wall.
And in the little village school upon the Sabbath day
When teacher says, "Who made you children?" They all stand and say,
 
When Cassidy was training, sure, the sergeant of his lot
Kept telling them to ‘double,’ which is marching at the trot.
A Scotchman said, “ Dam Doublin’!" as he stopped and puffed and blew,
But who was it that shouted, “And to hell with Glasgow too"?
 
You’ve heard of how the Germans in Berlin and ev’rywhere
Shout out "Gott Strafe England," it’s a saying like "There's ‘air!"
They strafe Italy and France, they strafe all the host,
But who is it the Baby-killers keep on strafing most?
 
Who was it met a dainty little Belgian refugee,
And right behind the firing line would sit her on his knee?
Who was it when she doubted him got on his knees and swore
He'd love her for "Three years or the duration of the war"?
 
You've heard enough of Private Michael Cassidy by now
To know that he's a soldier 'and a man, but anyhow,
He's out there in the trenches, and his weary heart to cheer,
I want you all to shout this loud enough for him to hear: