We talk of great victories won in the west
And of when release comes and those we love best
We listen to hear the most incredible tales
The beatings we get take the wind from our sails
The one thing we're sure of and it's not very nice
At each meal we're fed with nothing but RICE.
We scrounge from the swill bins, an undesirable source
But you'll do things like that when you're hungry, of course
Our Officers in charge often wrangle in vain
But the Nips in command, show only disdain
In this situation its like the throw of a dice
But a near damn certainty we'll only get RICE.
We seize what we can every day through the wire
But its not very much or what we desire
Who ever thought we would see Brigadiers
Grabbing buns through the bars like Regents Park bears
But its wrong to label such gluttony a vice
When all you get fed with is a bowl of boiled RICE.
We've no blankets or clothes and we sleep on the floor
No windows to close and worse still, there's no door
A problem severe and not easy to resolve
Is the one of hygiene and there are others to solve
But who gives a damn for the menace of lice
The one thing that matters is a meal other than RICE.