It's making me sick mum
I don't like the food much
It's cold at night times
I don't like this life much
We're up at five a.m.
We're just walking round and round again
I don't like the sergeant
He's making me sick mum
In the paddy fields
I hear voices
Late at night mum
The tones are cold ones
In a strange tongue
I saw a mate of mine cop it
Right in the face mum
I kind of wish it was mine
In the paddy fields
Shoot that gun sonny boy
Run the bajonets left and right
Here we go Angola
Writee home to your mother tell her
Her son was a brave boy
In the paddy fields