This parody of "The Mountains of Mourne" was written by J Russell Hobbs, a member of the 1st Echelon of the 2nd New Zealand Expeditionary Force. "He has sung it at camp concerts, and it has been a great hit with the boys."

Oh Mother, this Egypt's a terrible land Tis nothing but flies, fleas and acres of sand The sun is so hot - and the wind when it blows Piles dust till it lies inches thick on our clothes. But for all of these hardships, we've no worries nor cares And the newspapers call us militaire millionaires So perhaps I should say that we're living in style Where the sands of the desert roll down to the Nile NZEF camp at Maadi, with Cairo in the background. 2. The East and West, so a poet once said Are as different in ways as the quick and the dead You wouldn't believe all the tales I can tell No, nor imagine a pure Eastern smell. We've all read the tales of Arabian Nights And since we've been round and seen all of the sights We just live for the day where we sit back and smile Dreaming dreams of days spent on the banks of the Nile 3. There's some beautiful girls, but fear not, Mother dear 'Cos most of them smell like a putrified pear; They look all alluring and soft to the touch But we really don't know, cause their tastes cost too much. So tell all our young sweethearts we're still faithful and true And so we shall be till we get back to you And this is the feeling of all rank and file Where the sands roll down to the bank of the Nile

Versions of the song

1. This version of the song was printed in a collection of Taihape Times articles, titled "Taihape and District Memories" Miss Leary's Scrapbook, 1939 -1946 Second World War. It was probably printed in the 1970s. Miss Meta Leary was matron at Taihape Hospital for many years, and when she retired had a great amount to do with starting and running the Taihape Museum.

2. A hand-written version of the song, with a few minor variations as well as this 4th verse, was found by a 42 year old woman, amongst her grandfather's papers in Middlesex, England in 2007.

4. Oh Mother dear, if the truth must be known We are all very homesick and want to be home And when its all over, and we're there once again We'll talk and we'll talk till we drive you insane Perhaps no great stories of deeds we have done Perhaps no great stories of battles we've won But we'll tell you with pride how with cunning and guile We guarded with safety the banks of the Nile

"...the wind, when it blows, piles dust till it lies inches thick on our clothes." Maadi Camp, Cairo.

3. And this version, with new verses in the middle of the song by George Smith is posted on BBC archive of WW2

Dear Mother, this Egypt is a terrible land, It's nothing but flies, fleas and acres of sand. The sun is so hot, and the wind when it blows, Piles dust till it lies inches thick on your clothes. But for all these hardships, we've no worries or cares, The newspapers call us the English millionaires, So, perhaps I should say that we're living in style, Where the sands of the desert roll down to the Nile. 2. Our hotel in 'Alex' is cosy and bright, And its wonderful beach is a golden delight. But to stroll around the town is to mar all our joy, We were pestered all day by the young shoe-shine boy. We've been around the Sphinx and the pyramids too, The brochure was right, it's a breathtaking view. The bazaars are so humid the odour is vile, So we went on a cruise on the beautiful Nile. 3. We've seen Abdin Palace where lived King Farads, (Abdeen, Faud) It's just round the corner from Babfa El Soak, (Souk) It's a beautiful building with the emblems of green, The one place in Cairo that really looks clean. We've not seen the President but when he appears, I guess we will give him three rousing good cheers. And he will reply with a wave and a smile, To the tourists enjoying his wonderful Nile. 4. There's some beautiful girls, but we've taken the hint, Cos most of them say it will cost you a mint, They all look alluring and soft to the touch, But we really don't know cos their tastes cost too much. So I tell all my friends that we're faithful and true, And shall be till we're back in England with you, So I'll send you a postcard and we will stay for a while, For we're sunning ourselves on the banks of the Nile.

Thanks to George Black for finding this song and sending it in to the website.

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Published on the NZ Folksong website on 9 August 2008,