Am
    Far and wide as the eye can wander,
     E        Am      E     Am
    heath and bog are everywhere.
    C
    Not a bird sings out to cheer us,
    E        Am        E        Am
    oaks are standing gaunt and bare.
    G  C                 G
    We are the peat-bog soldiers,
    Am                 E            Am
    marching with our spades to the moor.

    Am
    Up and down the guard are pacing,
    E      Am      E         Am
    no one, no one can get through.
     C
    Flight would mean a sure death facing,
     E       Am           E        Am
    guns and barbed wire greet our view.
    G  C                 G
    We are the peat-bog soldiers,
    Am                 E            Am
    marching with our spades to the moor.

    Am
    But for us there is no complaining,
    E      Am      E       Am
    winter will in time be past.
    C
    One day we will cry rejoicing:
     E        Am            E       Am
    Homeland, dear, you`re mine a t last.
     C                      G
    Then will the peat-bog soldiers
    Am                        E            Am
    march no more with their spades to the moor.