For 'e's eyes all up 'is coat,
An' a bugle in 'is throat,
An' you will not play the goat
Under Bobs.

'E's a little down on drink,
Chaplain Bobs;
But it keeps us outer Clink-
Don't it Bobs?
So we will not complain
Tho' 'e's water on the brain,
If 'e leads us straight again-
Blue-light Bobs.

If you stood 'im on 'is head
Father Bobs,
You could spill a quart o' lead
Outer Bobs.
'E's been at it thirty years,
An' amassin souveneers
In the way o' slugs an' spears-
Ain't yer, Bobs?

What 'e does not Know o' war,
Gen'ral Bobs,
You can arst the shop next door-
Can't they, Bobs?
Oh, 'e's little, but he's wise;
'E's a terror for 'is size,
An'-'e-does-not-advertise-