Peter's Private Army (Martin Graebe) Number one is Peter Dunn, His arm blown away by a big French gun, It's him our little band does lead, With a money bag tied to his sleeve. Tip tap tip, hop and skip, It's Peters Private Army. Number two is Peg-leg Hugh, His dancing done since Waterloo, With his fiddle tucked beneath his chin, He'll wave his stump to beat the time. Number three is Blind Jack Bree, Lost both his eyes in the Kings Navy, But still his squeeze box he can play, And the notes roll out like an ocean bay. Number four is Harry Taw, Caught a bullet in the throat in the peninsular, But he's wind enough on his pipe to toot, He can say as much as we although his voice is mute. Number five is Mad Jim Ives, It's hard too tell by looking if he's dead or alive, But when he hears the fiddle thrum, He'll beat like hell on his big skin drum. And so we're marching off again, You'll hear us playing down the lane, And we hope that you'll be kind to us, 'Cos we did as much for you in the country's cause. Number five is Mad Jim Ives, Number four is Harry Taw, Number three is Blind Jack Bree, Number two is Peg-leg Hugh, Number one is Peter Dunn, It's Peters Private Army. Copyright Martin Graebe From singing of Johnny Collins AG apr97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!