Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger - Kilroy Was Here

From their LP “Kilroy Was Here” (Blackthorne Records BR-1063) released in 1980.

Featured on my blog today:

So who was this funny little man with wide-open eyes and a huge U-shaped nose peering over a wall? There's no definitive account of his origin, but it's clear that he rose to worldwide prominence in the late 1930s, gaining infamy during World War II. The Australians claim that he emerged in the first World War; they called him Foo. In Britain he was called Chad. He appeared on walls of buildings, on shop windows, and in newspaper cartoons. Below him were the words: Wot no sugar?” / “Wot no tea?” / “Wot no cigarettes?” or whatever else was in short supply due to rationing. It was the Americans who called him Kilroy. Touring GIs would make their presence felt by drawing him with the slogan “Kilroy was here” or, if they were artistically minded, would simply let the character represent, with no words necessary. The artistically challenged would simply scrawl the phrase itself. In the spirit of the Grand Alliance, British soldiers soon adopted Kilroy's name over Chad. The ubiquitous graffiti would give a boost to those who would follow in the footsteps, a symbolic universal soldier as it were.

All throughout the album, Ewan and Peggy appropriate the image of Kilroy - the anonymous WWII soldier - as the everyman who does all the hard graft, the menial work, does all the fighting, does all the dying. In short, Kilroy represents your dispensable working class Joe, he always has done, and he always will do.

Who was here when they handed out the heavy jobs?
Jobs with the hammer, the pick and shovel,
Who choked in the foundry, froze at the fish docks?
Eight days to the week.

Who was here with a mile of rock above him?
Three-foot seam in the darkness crouching,
Stinging sweat in his eyes, powdered rock in his spittle,
A hundred minutes to the hour.

Who was here in the furrowed fields stooped over?
Pain shapes the question in bone and muscle,
Roots and hands competing, fumbling, groping,
Twenty-eight hours to the day.

Who was here in the world of steel and clamour?
Feeding Leviathan in his cavern,
Breathing the hot sharp stink of metal,
Five weeks to the month.

Hey you, dog's body, what do they call you?
Who clears up the mess when the fight is over?
Who carries the broom, the mop and the bucket?
Thirty-six months to the year.

Smooth-faced old boy-men instructed him,
Geldings programmed his energy,
Coached in running by men whose arches had fallen,
Dead men told him how to live.

Kilroy, Kilroy, where has Kilroy gone?
Kilroy was here, see there's his mark,
He came this way, he was wearing his number,
Did nobody see him pass?