They in their black battalion go,
Fit to weep, dressed to kill, to the chapel on the hill,
Through the wind and the blistering snow,
Unafraid, undisguised, to put pennies in his eyes,
The twist of a grin, the whiskers on his chin,
Hide the teeth of a giant, broken, yellow and defiant,
His bones lay crossed, he’ll no be back,
He arrived in screaming pink, now he’ll leave in silent black.
Cheer up ye lousy cadgers, I’ll no be missed,
I’ve given ye all the day off work & leave to hit the piss,
So tart me up in finery & put me to the flame,
Don’t plant me in the ground tho’ for fear I’ll grow again!
I know each & every line on your chiselled ugly faces,