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