With all the joys and jollies people are having about Battlefield 1, I figured I'd start showing what I think of when I think of the Great War: corpse eating rats and pathetic too-little-too-late attempts by mostly ambivalent military suppliers trying to figure out how to keep men from not getting cut in half by artillery shrapnel. Oh yeah, and trench clubs.

I don't want to be a soldier
I don't want to go to war
I'd rather hang around Picadilly underground
living off the earnings of a lady typist-
Don't want a bullet up me arshole
don't want me bollocks shot away
I'd rather be in England,
Merry fucking England,
living off a limey's pay (god dammit)

Call out the army and the navy,
call out the rank and file,
call out the members of the old home guard-
they'll face danger with a smile (god dammit)
Call out the members of the Guards' brigade:
they'll keep England free-
Call out me mother,
me sister and me brother-
but for God's sake don't call me!