Then, t' Grand old Duke of York
An' 'is ten thousand men'
When they got to the top of this bloody great hill,
Why d' yer think they all marched down again?

And in Africa, eighteen 'undred an' somethin',
T' were rainin' just like in t' monsoon,
When Stanley emerged from the jungle.
"Doctor Livingstone, sir, I presume?"

"Aye, that's me, lad, now tell, what's tha want?"
"What do I want? Bah gum, where's tha been?
I've been searchin' all round t' bloody continent, mate,
Since tha picked up my mac in t' canteen.

Sam, umpteen times now the course of world 'istory
'As 'ung in the balance it seems.
T' were not act of God, but some silly sod
Who'd gone an' left t' mac in t' canteen.

When these people all came up to 'eaven,
First they filled up all t' pegs an' 'at-racks,
They were gonna do summat about it,
'Cos t' canteen were packed solid wi' macs.

  We never did find a solution
Yer just couldn't get in through the door,
An' the canteen tea's so bloody rotten,
Nobody goes in any more.

As Saint Peter were showin' our Sam to 'is cloud,
After drawin' 'is wings an' 'is 'arp,
There were quick flash of lightnin' an' thunder,
Then it started for t' rainin' - quite sharp.

"By Gum," says Saint Peter, "don't rain often up 'ere.
I thought that sky looked a bit black.
I'm gonna get soaked out in this lot.
Now, where did I leave t' bloody mac?"

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