Shamelessly robbed from another site On Sunday they would arrive, all eager and keen. Determined to become the best fighting machine. For being a soldier they had elected to become To march and to serve, at the beat of the drum. New faces and haircuts, new clothing to wear Kiwi polish and brasso, was the smell in the air. Bed blocks, locker layouts, and stand by your beds cos the corporal is inbound, the time they all dread. Three ranks full of crows, wearing berets all wrong A soldier not yet, you are still but a mong. We will drill you, train you and sharpen your mind We are instructors of soldiers, not friendly or kind. We shape them and mould them and give them some pride The week ones are binned, as there is nowhere to hide. They start to dress smartly with shoulders pulled back They are becoming soldiers, our mission is on track. They are learning the skills that a soldier should know Shooting to kill, engage the enemy with great foe. To work as a team, and to get the job done To stand and to fight, when others would run. The training is finished and our mission complete a fine bunch of 'Squaddies' it has been quite a feat. They must now go and play in the soldiering game And remember who trainined them, remember our name. So another bunch of soldiers the factory passes out The block now empty, no whisper or shout. But soon will come Sunday, and it all starts again Another bunch of mongs for us instructors to train. To teach and to train, inspire, shape and mould To lecture and guide you must be both proud and bold. An instructor of soldiers, a profession so high Just some of the great qualities, of a typical MTI. Cheers
