When the tale is told in text books
Of the battle in the west,
Where the desert meets a desert
And the pasture ain't the best.
When the story's set and stated, 
Written down in black and white
For the up and coming soldier
To peruse from left to right.
When the printed pulp is published,
Page on page of lettered lines, 
And its dispositioned forces
And its places, points and times.
When the book is there before us, 
Full of tactical defeats,
And technical advantages
And strategical retreats.
When the past is put on paper,
Telling why and when and where,
It'll curb the curiosity
Of the thousands that were there.
For the folks that fought this warfare,
On the home front or at the base,
Can peruse their penny papers
And see such and such took place,
But the bloke amidst the battle
Sees his own small, sticky sphere,
And hasn't heard what happened
Further forward or down rear.
He doesn't know the northern news,
The southern state's the same,
And he hopes to hell that convoy 
Coming closer turns out tame.
So when those books see daylight
And meet him face to face,
He can pick 'em up and so find out
What actually took place.