We’re the Iraq Dodgers
Out in Afghani,
Always on the Vino
Always on a spree,
Is that what you all do think of us?
A holiday, without a fuss,
Cos we’re the Iraq Dodgers out in Afghani.
Mr Blair you sent our boys
Out on combat tour,
Half the boys you sent,
Don’t know what, they’re fighting for,
Then bullets fly right over head,
There’s some alive and some boys dead,
We’re Artful Iraq Dodgers, In sunny Afghani.
The food is crap, just like the digs,
Why are we all here?
We’d rather be at home,
In Blighty with warm beer,
But no instead we’re here on tour,
We’re fighting a forgotten war,
We’re flamin Iraq Dodgers, in flamin Afghani.
We fight a war we did not choose,
The terms we did not make,
We’re now page twelve in last weeks’ news,
Oh for heavens sake,
When will this war decide to end?
It’s driving us around the bend,
We’re traumatised old Dodgers in dear old Afghani.
We’ve been hear o’er five years
And we didn’t catch Saddam,
That was left to those
In the Country near Iran,
We’re in a Country far away,
It’s good to see, but not to stay,
We’re long forgotten Dodgers in barren Afghani.
So when the time arrives
And it’s time to go on leave,
We look at one another
And what did we achieve?
Then on the transport fly back home,
With wife and kids, we’re free to roam,
We’re lucky Iraq Dodgers from war torn Afghani.
The leave is up, we must go back,
To our daily job,
Fighting for World Peace,
Only earning half a bob,
Then on a plane out to Baghdad,
Its war again we feel quite sad,
We’re not so Iraq Dodgers,
We’re not in Afghani