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.