Tom: C
Am
Far and wide as the eye can wander,
E Am E Am
heath and bog are everywhere.
C
Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
E Am E Am
oaks are standing gaunt and bare.
G C G
We are the peat-bog soldiers,
Am E Am
marching with our spades to the moor.
Am
Up and down the guard are pacing,
E Am E Am
no one, no one can get through.
C
Flight would mean a sure death facing,
E Am E Am
guns and barbed wire greet our view.
G C G
We are the peat-bog soldiers,
Am E Am
marching with our spades to the moor.
Am
But for us there is no complaining,
E Am E Am
winter will in time be past.
C
One day we will cry rejoicing:
E Am E Am
Homeland, dear, you`re mine a t last.
C G
Then will the peat-bog soldiers
Am E Am
march no more with their spades to the moor.
