CELLS
I’ve a head like a concertina: I’ve a tongue like a button-stick:
I’ve a mouth like an old potato, and I’m more than a little sick,
But I’ve had my fun o’ the Corp’ral’s Guard: I’ve made the cinders fly,
And I’m here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal’s eye.
I’ve a mouth like an old potato, and I’m more than a little sick,
But I’ve had my fun o’ the Corp’ral’s Guard: I’ve made the cinders fly,
And I’m here in the Clink for a thundering drink and blacking the Corporal’s eye.
With a second-hand overcoat under my head,
And a beautiful view of the yard,
Oh, it’s pack-drill for me and a fortnight’s C.B.
For ‘drunk and resisting the Guard!’
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard—
’Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it’s pack-drill for me and a fortnight’s C.B.
For ‘drunk and resisting the Guard.’
And a beautiful view of the yard,
Oh, it’s pack-drill for me and a fortnight’s C.B.
For ‘drunk and resisting the Guard!’
Mad drunk and resisting the Guard—
’Strewth, but I socked it them hard!
So it’s pack-drill for me and a fortnight’s C.B.
For ‘drunk and resisting the Guard.’