作曲 : Public Domain
Oh Mary, this Longmoor’s a wonderful place
But the organisation’s a ****ing disgrace.
They stand on the square and they bawl and they shout,
They shout about things they know ****‑all about.

There’s plenty of Naafi tea, oh never mind,
It’s a brew I’m sure Brook Vaunt never designed.
The flavour I’m sure no one ever could place,
But it tastes like a mixture of polish and paste.

This Longmoor on Thursdays is lovely to see,
With sappers all lined up in columns of three.
’Tis time when the officers sit in their chairs,
And dish out the money as if it were theirs.

When you get to them you hand them your book,
Then all you get from them a dirty black look.
They give you the cash you ****ing well earned,
And before you get out in the box it’s returned.

They tell us that Sunday’s a day we can rest,
But we’re out in the morning in best battle dress.
They tell us as Christians to church we must go,
So we’re lined up once more in threes in a row.

They tell us that someday this war’s going to end,
And a nice load of cash we’ll be able to spend.
If I had my way they would all of them be
Shovelling **** on the Isle of Capri.