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