| Been sitting on old park benches
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| Brother, hasn’t it been fun?
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| But you remember me from the trenches
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| I fought in World War One
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| Yes, you saw us off at the troop train
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| Smiling a brave goodbye
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| But where were you when we came home
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| To claim our apple pie
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| Oh where’s our apple pie, my friends?
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| Where’s our apple pie?
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| We’ve walked and wheeled from the battlefield
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| Now where’s our apple pie?
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| World War Two was a favorite
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| God was surely on our side
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| The teenage kids enlisted with
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| The blessings of their daddys' pride
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| Well the wars may change but not so the glaze
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| In the young boys' eyes
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| When they cry out for their mamas
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| In the hours before they die
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| Oh where’s our apple pie, my friends?
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| Where’s our apple pie?
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| We’ve walked and wheeled from the battlefield
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| Now where’s our apple pie?
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| I volunteered for the last one
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| And I don’t want to moralize
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| But somehow I thought we deserved the best
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| For the way we threw away our lives
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| For we all believed in something
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| I know it wasn’t very clear
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| But I know it wasn’t rats in a hospital room
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| And a broken-down wheelchair
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| Oh where’s our apple pie, my friends?
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| Where’s our apple pie?
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| We’ve walked and wheeled from the battlefield
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| Now where’s our apple pie?
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| Yes, Johnny finally got his gun
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| Before he got his apple pie
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| Now he hasn’t got a hand to eat it with
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| But still he doesn’t want to die
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| Because he prefers to go on fighting
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| And let his baby brother know
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| When the next time around the call goes out
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| It’s «Hell no, we won’t go!»
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| There’ll be no World War Three, my friends
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| There’ll be no World War Three
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| We’ve walked and wheeled from the battlefield
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| There’ll be no World War Three |