I was working for my father
On a dairy farm out on Otway
When one day that thrice-poxed postie
With a conscription notice came
John Curtin said “boy you’re the one
To protect our dear home from the rising sun”
‘Cos the volunteers were fighting for England
Only the rugged and the buggered remained

So they placed me in a Choco battalion
39th AMF was its name
And they sent us on off to New Guinea
Even though we were only half-trained
I remember turning twenty quite well
‘Cos the very next day was when Singapore fell
And as the panic spread to Port Moresby
Only the rugged and the buggered remained

So we marched on up to Kokoda
And the track it was sheer muddy hell
And they told us to hold this great ridgeline boys
Before the Japs could get there as well
But they took us at about six to one
When the best thing we had was an old Lewis gun
And the cry went back to Port Moresby
Only the rugged and the buggered remained

Well we fought them off with our rifles
With our spades and our boots and our knives
And we gave those sons of the Emperor
The bloodiest fight of our lives
But we knew we hadn’t a hope
As we paid with our youth to retreat down the slope
And as the veterans sailed for Port Moresby
Only the rugged and the buggered remained

We were on our last bloody legs at Isurava
We were sick, we were starved, we were worn
Then the veterans came to fill out our line
Just when we thought we were gone
Well we staggered away from the front
Our clothes were old rags and our guns rusted up
And as I looked out amongst my companions
Only the rugged and the buggered remained