We are the D-day Dodgers, out in Italy, Always on the vino, always on the spree.
Eighth Army skivers and their tanks,
We go to war in ties like swanks.
For we are the D-day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.
We landed at Salerno, a holiday with pay. Jerry brought his bands out to cheer us on his way, Showed us the sights and gave us tea,
We all sang songs, the beer was free.
For we are the D-day Dodgers, the lads that D-day dodged.
Palermo and Cassino were taken in our stride,
We did not go to fight there, we just went for the ride. Anzio and Sangro are just names,
We only went to look for dames,
For we are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.
On our way to Florence, we had a lovely time,
We drove a bus from Rimini, right through the Gothic Line,
Then to Bologna we did go,
And went bathing in the River Po,
For we are the D-day Dodgers, the lads that D-day dodged.
We hear the boys in France are going home on leave,
After six months service such a shame they're not relieved. And we're told to carry on a few more years,
Because our wives don't shed no tears.
For we are the D-day Dodgers, out in sunny Italy.
Once we had a "blue light" that we were going home,
Back to dear old Blighty, never more to roam.
Then someone whispered: 'In France we'll fight,'
We said: 'Not that, we'll just sit tight,'
For we are the D-day Dodgers, the lads that D-day dodged.
Dear Lady Astor, you think you know a lot,
Standing on a platform and talking Tommy rot.
Dear England's sweetheart and her pride,
We think your mouth is much too wide -
From the D-day Dodgers, out in sunny Italy.
Look around the hillsides, through the mist and rain,
See the scattered crosses, some that bear no name. Heartbreak and toil and suffering gone,
The lads beneath, they slumber on.
They are the D-day Dodgers, who'll stay in Italy.
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