I don't mind, please don't misunderstand —
I know the score of war.
A soldiers' life is give and give
And then they ask for more.
Walking on the picket line
Where my comrades fell,
Holding up the thin-red-line
In the shot and shell.
The lady with the lamp,
You know she understands.
The lady with the lamp,
She's the soldiers' friend.

I don't mind the blistering heat,
I think I can endure.
It's freezing cold and I can't feel my feet —
Well, that's the hell of war.
I never thought about the big red wound
When I saw my comrades fall.
Now I'm in this cold and lonely room
Wondering if I'll live at all.

The lady with the lamp,
You know she understands.
The lady with the lamp,
She's the soldiers' friend.

First they use us
And then they throw us away.
Only this nightingale
Knows the price that we pay,
The lady with the tramp.

Excuse me please, a cup of tea,
I've such a terrible thirst.
Would you please come and sit with me,
I feel it's come to the worst.
Write my mother that I love her so,
I can't seem to hold the pen.
Take this keep-sake and send it home,
To those I'll never see again.

The lady with the lamp,
You know she understands.
The lady with the lamp,
She's the soldiers' friend.

She will hold his hand,
Stay with him to the end.
You know she understands,
She's the soldier's friend.