From the shores of dusty Africa
To our Maquis deep in France
Our Squadron flies there every nite
Just to give swell guys a chance.
Tho' the weather's never very good
And the mountains scrape the floor
We'd do our damnedest to the end
We're the boy's of 624.
Old Hitler's Luftwaffe did their best
To stop those air supplies
By fighting Maquis on the ground
And the Stirling in the skies.
But the boys will always carry on
Right to the Germans door
'cause we're the British fighting breed
We're the boys of 624.
Our C.O. always rants and raves
He's the "bastard" of them all
He knew the boys he was binding at
Would answer to his call.
O'er the valleys and the lofty trees
Down thru' the nite we'd soar
In answer to the Victory "V's"
We're the boys of 624.
Now our job is well and truly done
Never more we'll want to roam
Old Jerry's truly on the run
There's a chance of "Home, Sweet Home".
Oh we never care; we've done our share
To help to win the war
But you'll never find a finer crowd
Than the boys of 624.