Dreamin' of Thee
by
Cyril Fletcher
Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee! 
Sittin' with my elbow on my knee, 
I orter be a-polishin' the meat dish an' the can, 
I orter draw the groceries, for I'm an ord'ly man, 
But wot are bloomin' rations, an' wots a pot or pan, 
When I'm dreamin' oh my darlin' love of thee

Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee! 
Firin' at the rifle range I be, 
I've missed a fust class targit - 
an' I've missed the 'ill behind, 
I nearly shot a marker once! (which wasn't very kind) 
The orficer he swears at me - but really I don't mind, 
I am dreamin' oh my darlin' one, of thee. 

Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee! 
Me, as was smart as smart cud be! 
My kit is all untidy - an' it's inches thick in dust, 
An' my rifle's fouled an' filthy, an' my baynit's red with rust. 
They've tried to find a reason but I've seen 'em further fust. 
An' they never guess I'm dreamin' dear of thee.

Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee! 
They can't make out wot's come over me.
The fellows think I'm barmy, an' the Major thinks it's drink, 
The Sergeant thought it laziness, so shoved me in the clink! 
The Colonel called it thoughtlessness, so gave me time to think, 
An' to dream again my darlin' one, of thee.

Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee!
Wot's two hours sentry go to me? 
A-sittin' in a sentry box a-thinkin' of your eyes, 
The ord'ly officer come along an' took me by surprise.
'E said as I was sleepin' an' the usual orficer lies,
When I was only dreamin' love, of thee.

Dreamin' of thee! Dreamin' of thee! 
Wond'rin' what they're goin' ter do ter me...
Oh when I'm in the Ord'ly Room I know I'll cop it 'ot, 
I'll be 'auled before the C.O. p'raps git sentenced to be shot 
But whether I git punishment, or whether I do not, 
They can't prevent me dreamin' love of thee.
The end