I wonders at th' ig'rance wot pre-wails abaht th' woar
Some folks dunno th' diffrance wot's between a sow an' boar
Roun' Bef'nal Green they're spahtin' of ole Krugger night an' day
An' I tries to put the wrong 'uns right wot 'as too much to say
W'en I goes in 'The Boar's Head' pub, the blokes they claps th'er 'ands
They knows I reads a bit, an' wot I reads I understan's
They twigs I knows abaht them Boars an' spots the'r little game
'Cos they bin an' giv' yer 'ighness 'ere a werry rorty name.

Chorus: I finks a cove sh'd fink afore 'e talks abaht th' woar
There's blokes wot talks as dunno wot they mean
But yer tumble as yer 'umble' knows a bit abaht th' baor
W'en they calls me nibs 'The Bore of Bef'nal Green'

Theytalks abaht th' arny, but they nivver names a ship
For slightin' of th' navey I c'ud fairly giv' 'em gip
The'r ig'rance 'bout th' British Fleet 'd take yer bref away
They dunno as it's guardin' of the mines at Kimberlay
I've a nevvy in th' navey wot's a-sendin' noose to me
W'ch 'e gits 'is infermashun from th' Ad-me-rally-tee
An' 'e sez the Orange-Tree State's bin surrounded by 'is ship
An' they means to nab th' oranges and to giv' th' boars the pip.


They've bin an' sent out General 'Bobs' _ yer know th' bloke I mean
Well, me and 'im was schoolmates, an' wos born in Bef'nal Green
Tom LIpton says 'e'll lend th' fleet 's yacht - so after all
If 'e carnt lick Uncle Sam, 'e'll 'elp lick ole Uncle Paul
I'd lend 'em my ole wherry wot I lets out on th' Lea
An' chance them Boars a-knockin' of 'er bottom out, d'yer see
But for shootin' at th' women - well I 'opes they'll git it stiff
'Cos ain't they bin a-firin' shells at that poor Lady Smiff.

Written and composed by W.E. Imeson & Fred Eplett
Published 1899
Recorded by Gus Elen
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