The Deserter Songtext
von Pukka Orchestra

The Deserter. A recitation by the Pukka Orchestra
′I'm sorry I done it, Major.′
We bandaged the livid face
And led him out, ere the wan sun rose
To die his death of disgrace
The bolt-heads locked to the cartridge
The rifles steady to rest As cold stock nestled at colder cheek
And foresight lined on the breast
'Fire' called the Sergeant-Major
The muzzles flamed as he spoke
And the shameless soul of a nameless man
Went up in the cordite smoke