Don't Join The Army

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I Don't Want To Join The Army 

monday night I touched her on the ankle,
tuesday I touched her on the knee.
on wednesday night success! I lifted up her dress,
thursday night well, oh! cor blimey.
friday night I had my hand upon it,
saturday night she gave my balls a tweak.
on sunday after supper,
I rammed the fucker up her,
and now I'm paying seventy bob a week.
cor blimey.

chorus:

I don't want to join the army, I don't want to go to war.
I'd rather hang around piccadilly underground,
living off the earnings of a high born lady.
I don't want a bayonet up my arse-hole,
I don't want my bollocks shot away. I'd rather stay in england,
in merry, merry england,
and fornicate my fucking life away.
cor blimey.


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