If you wear the “butchers apron” then you’re my kind of guy,
for you were in Korea when the bullets began to fly,
we were called to the land of the Morning Calm in 1951,
to help put out a fire the North Korean’s had begun.
We landed down in Pusan and started trekking north,
as we reached the Yalu River we thought we had shown our worth,
when without a moments warning a raging blizzard blew,
and pushed hard by the Chinese, we fell back on Wonju.
Fighting hard to keep a line along the River Han,
when the pride of every regiment that is part of every man,
shone forth amongst the Gloster’s, as at the Imjim they made their stand.
Their valour was infectious, and right across the land,
the tide of war was turning, the push northward was at hand.
The Yanks hit them from seaward at a place known as Inchon,
as the Chinese sensing a defeat, started peace talks at Panmunjom.
From Pork Chop Hill to Wonsan, from Seoul to Taegu,
the UN troops were pushing north, under a banner of blue,
the First Commonwealth Division, fought and held their ground,
as the talks at Panmunjom went another round.
The talking finally over, an armistice agreed,
from the 38th southward, the country had been freed,
three bitter years of fighting over that poor battered land,
will be swallowed and forgotten by natures healing hand.
We said goodbye to all our friends, and left for home with speed,
or to take up arms in other lands where there was a need,
but now as I grow older and wiser with the years,
I reflect was it worth the friends we left there, and their loved ones tears.