I Don't Want to Join the Army

I don't want to go to war,
I'd rather hang around Picadilly Underground,
Living off the earnings of a high born lady.
I don't need no Foggy women,
London's full of girls I never 'ad.
I want to stay in Blighty, Lord Gawd Almighty,
Following in the footsteps of me Dad.

Chorus:
Call up the buggers,
In the Royal Marines.
Call up the Queen's Artillery.
Call up me brother,
Me sister and me mother,
But for Gawd's sake don't call me.

Monday I touched her on the ankle.
Tuesday I touched her on the knee.
On Wednesday night Hooray! I pulled dress away.
Thursday night I felt that I, was really getting high.
Friday I got me hand upon it.
Saturday gave it just a little a tweak.
Sunday after dinner, I finally got it in 'er
And now I'm paying thirty bob a week.