He would read from his prayer books
That he kept in his coat with button hooks
And I dwelt with him each day
And casted glances all his way

But he sir had a touch of class
With his pocket watch made out of brass
And I loved the way he smelled
Like clean old clothes left on the shelf

I would brave the harsh night air
To get to him my legionnaire
And we would flee into the woods
I always knew my boy was good

I'd pick the whipper-wills
To give to him just for thrills
And he'd buy the gold hairpins
To give to me just for grins

I'd brave the harsh night air
To get to him my legionnaire
And we would flee into the woods
I always knew my boy was good

For his goodness is what won me over
Yes my legionnaire's the kindest soldier