often 'ardly proper,
And we swings a tank iv iron scrap across
the 'Oly Land
From a dinkie gun we nipped ashore the
other side of Jopper.

We ain't ever very natty, for the climate here
is hot;
When it isn't liquid mud the dust is thicker
than the vermin.
Ten to one our bold Noureddin is some wad-
dlin' Turkish pot,
'N' the Saladin we're on to is a snortin'
red-eyed German.

But be'old the eighth Crusade, 'n' Dicko
Smith is in the van,
Dicko Coor de Lion from Carlton what
could teach King Dick a trifle,
For he'd bomb his Royal Jills from out his
baked-pertater can,
Or he'd pink him full of leakage with a
quaint repeatin' rif1e.

We have sunk our claws in Mizpah, and
Siloam is in view.
By my 'alidom from Agra we will send the
Faithful reelin'!
Those old-timers botched the contract, but we
mean to put it through.