Chorus: That's what I call plucky!
That's what I call pluck!
Tho' he might be chewing cats,
Or puppy dogs or even rats,
(Sym.) He bolts it! (Sym.) That's pluck!

Amongst poor henpecked married men,
We find a hero, now and then.
For instance, my pal Bloggs each night,
Rolls home paralytic tight;
His wife awaits him at the door,
And treats him to an hour's jaw,
She calls him every kind of name,
But next night he's drunk just the same.

Chorus: That's what I call plucky!
That's what I call pluck!
Then says, 'You drunken beast,
Old bloggs he doesn't care the least,
(Sym.) Goes like this! (Sym.) That's pluck!

No doubt we all have been hard pressed,
For money, tho' we're smartly dressed,
We'd do anything, some oof to earn,
So go and give three balls a turn.
Our beautiful frock-coat goes first,
Our boots, our waistcoat, now the worst.
If nothing more to pawn is left,
Of all but these (trousers) we are bereft,