You've heard about the lads in red, Her Majesty's soldier sons
Who've conquored every foe
And bits of things, what ho
Well, out of all the regiments I reckon we're the ones
For prestige and gore
We've played a part on many a battle-field,
We've often lain concealed
With chivvies soled and heeled
And we've been slapped and scrapped, and orange-peeled
The Bunk-a-doodle Corps.

Chorus: When the Colonel gives the word to go
And the guns begin to roar
And the pigs begin to snore
And the slaveys bolt the door
Then it's eyes front, heel and toe, and off we go to war
Chests out, slops about,
Say to the mob, 'Look out for your fob
Mind you don't get robbed by the Bunk-a doodle Corps.'

They made a lot of fuss about the charge in the cold Crimea
But that was tommy rot
Compared with Aldershot
You ought to see us charging on a Suday to get some beer
Around the canteen door
And, as for fighting - oh well, save the Queen
You ought to see the lot
Of noses we have got
You'll find the best thick ears you've ever seen
In the Bunk-a-doodle Corps.


We all uphold the Union - The Union is the thing
Because in early months
We lived inside it once
We've struck for home and freedom, and should ever war begin
We'll 'strike for home once' more
We had to swear that we'd be gallant lads
We've sworn a lot since then
We're ready to swear again
Our prayers and swears would sink an ironclad
We're the Bunk-a-doodle Corps.
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