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Havoc and horror! Jerry he loved her, knew her tricks; Swore: “She’s the beat of the best big six, And if ever I get in a deuce of a fix Priscilla will pull me through. Fierce old messes of blood and bone. Bless you, that’s all old stuff: Beast of a night on the Verdun road, Jerry stuck with a woeful load, Stalled in the mud where the red lights glowed, Prospect devilish tough. A barrage of shrap, and us alone; Four rush-cases — you hear ’em moan? With a rush and a roar her way she clears, Straight at the hell of flame she steers, Full at its heart of wrath. Thunder of God! Bless her, she did it alone, alone. Shell-holes shoot at them out of the night; A lurch to the left, a wrench to the right, Hands grim-gripping and teeth clenched tight, Eyes that glare through the dark.

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Havoc and horror! A barrage of shrap, and us alone; Four rush-cases — you hear ’em moan? Why, Priscilla came in on her own.

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A barrage of shrap, and us alone; Four rush-cases — you hear ’em moan? Bless her, she did it alone, alone. Fierce old messes of blood and bone. Havoc and horror!

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Why, Priscilla came in on her own. Driving a red-meat bus out there — How did he win his Croix de Guerre? With a rush and a roar her way she clears, Straight at the hell of flame she steers, Full at its heart of wrath.

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Thunder of God! A barrage of shrap, and us alone; Four rush-cases — you hear ’em moan? Shell-holes shoot at them out of the night; A lurch to the left, a wrench to the right, Hands grim-gripping and teeth clenched tight, Eyes that glare through the dark. Fierce old messes of blood and bone. Driving a red-meat bus out there — How did he win his Croix de Guerre? Bless her, she did it alone, alone. With a rush and a roar her way she clears, Straight at the hell of flame she steers, Full at its heart of wrath. Why, Priscilla came in on her own. Fury of death and dust and din!

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Driving a red-meat bus out there — How did he win Servicw Croix de Guerre? Bless you, that’s all old stuff: Beast of a night on the Verdun road, Jerry stuck with a woeful load, Stalled in the mud where the red lights glowed, Prospect devilish tough.

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Fury of death and dust and din! Havoc and horror! Thunder of God! Why, Priscilla came in on her own. Bless her, she did it alone, alone.

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Thunder of God! Driving a red-meat bus out there — How did he win his Croix de Guerre? Bless you, that’s all old stuff: Beast of a night on the Verdun road, Jerry stuck with a woeful load, Stalled in the mud where the red lights glowed, Prospect devilish tough. With a rush and a roar her way she clears, Straight at the hell of flame she steers, Full at its heart of wrath.

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Priscilla, it’s up to you and me To show ’em what we can do. Why, Priscilla came in on her own. A barrage of shrap, and us alone; Four rush-cases — you hear ’em moan?

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