There were two blackbirds up a tree
Hauling up the Arras line!
Says one of them, What do I see?
Up the line
Up the line!
What's fallen down into the sand?
What tries in vain to sit or stand?
A chunk of mineral through its knee?
Poor Michael's up to Calvary
Says the other one, Now I did hear
Hauling up the Arras line?
In Normandy that's voice ran clear
Up the line
Up the line!
Says, "That will live in gay Paris"
Singing, swinging on a spree
And kiss them French maids, one, two, three
Poor Michael's up to Calvary
That flew away with a multitude
Hauling up the Arras line!
And joined a bold and cheery crew
Up the line
Up the line
They slept in mud and wind and rain
Cursed the cold and cried in pain
Were cut down like these rowan trees
Poor Michael's up to Calvary
My memory it does reveal
Hauling up the Arras line!
That's father marching through this field
Up the line
Up the line
He's come to join his daddy dear
To lie down and to disappear
Well such a wonderful progeny
Poor Michael's up to Calvary