Dartmoor in a rainy morning light
On the shoulders a well full pack
Regulation fifty six pounds hanging
On an already near breaking back
Marching on a compass bearing
No deviation allowed
Hour after hour
Under low hanging cloud
Forcing boot after boot
Water already seeping in
Wanting to kill the Doc
For his banter and his grin
I've been driving a desk
For more than three years
Wanting to kill the Rupert
That went and sent me here
Just a grinding march
In a murky moor haze
Mile after mile suffering
In an exhausted daze
The Doc's cheerful voice
Dragging us along
But oh lord I'll kill him
If he sings again that song
There's Don stoutly walking
Showing his stiff upper lip
While Reg curses madly
As he takes a near trip
And I'm staggering on
Just by the power of will
Compiling my growing list
Of folks I intend to kill
Dartmoor in October rain
There's an approaching end
And I suppose really
The Doc's not a bad friend
The three day's route march
That I thought I'd never make
Is finally finished and
I'm grinning through my aches
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