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We
are the ANZAC Army
The A.N.Z.A.C.
We cannot shoot, we don't salute
What bloody good are we ?
And when we get to Ber - Lin
The Kaiser, he will say
Hoch, Hoch, Mein Gott !
What a bloody odd lot
to get six bob a day.
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When I first thought of enlisting,
And courageously assisting
In this game the poet calls the Sport of Kings,
I had dreams of martial glory,
Dashing charge with bayonet gory,
And a host of other brave and stirring things:
But, alas! for dreams deceiving,
And imagination weaving
Such a web of utter falsehood in my brain!
For my visions all are shattered,
And I've just become a tattered,
Weary Digger, working knee-deep in a drain.
K. L. Trent - "A Digger's Disillusion"
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