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
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