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The Queens Marines
I don't want to join the Army, I don't want to go to war
I just want to go, down to old Soho
Pinching all the girls in the shoulder blades
I don't need no foreign women, London's full of girls I've never had
I just want to go, down to old Soho
And follow in the footsteps of me dad, Gar Blimey
Call out the members of the Queens' Marines
Call out the Kings' Artillery
You can call out me mother, me sister, or me brother
But for god's sake, don't call me
Monday night me hand was on her ankle,
Tuesday night me hand was on her knee
T'was Wednesday night success, I lifted up her dress
Thursday night, I lifted up her pink chemise
Friday night, I laid me hand upon it
T'was Saturday night, I gave it a little tweak
T'was Sunday after supper, I finally got it up her
And now I'm paying seven bob the week, Car Blimey
I don't want to join the Navy, I don't want to go to war
I'd rather hang around, Picadilly on the town
Living off the earnings of an high class lady
I don't want no bullets up me arsehole,
I don't want me buttocks shot away
I'd rather stay in London, jolly, jolly London
And fornicate me bloody life away, Gar Blimey
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