Irish soldier minding cash van.

Standing to attention, eyes looking around,
Ears pricked up, listening for sound.
At any stage, getting ready to run,
Not trusted with bullets for your gun.
Nation is satisfied and the uniform shows,
We don’t want you to blow off all your toes.
Suppose its cool, you look fairly hard,
Beats the fuck out of being a guard.
But rumors are flying, and maybe you’ve heard,
When your on tour, other guys are shagging your bird.
Though if it really lifts off, you can kick back and snore,
You signed up for neutrality, not the possibility of war.

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