Rosie, I wish that you were here

I miss you so much

Rosie, my dear



Rosie, I miss the hell that we raised

And the trails that we blazed

I miss the other half of me

My Rosie



Rosie, we played our song to death

Now the piano's out of tune

And the singer's out of breath

Rosie, do you love me still

Rosie, my little daffodil



I was a lanky private

Who thought he knew it all

Swept off his feet by a right Bobby Dazzler

The RAF and the WREN

Like old mother hens

Strutting through our lives going.....



Quack, quack, quack

Private who?

Quack, quack, quack

He's no good for you



Those were the years

When beer was beer

And you knew where you stood

The laughing stock of the neighborhood



Down at the local Palais

Me and the lads were having a knees up

I turns round to Harry

What's that noise rattling the tea cups

Better get your head down

Sounds like another V.1.



Everyone was screaming and shouting

And making the most appalling noise

So not unnaturally

I popped out to see exactly what had happened



Somebody said that the bomb

Had missed the Palais by inches

But had totally destroyed the next street

The next street

We live in the next street

Rosie, Rosie



Rosie, I wish you were here

I miss you so much

Rosie, my dear

Rosie, do you love me still

Rosie, my broken daffodil