Provided the weather is pleasantly warm,
And the bullets are decent and clean,
We're effing effective, and top of the form,
Killing quickly for country and Queen.
We're itching to ditch any Red or Iraqi
Unless the spring air is peculiarly parky.
Provided the isobars stick to the script
And our sights are impeccably set,
We blast our way forward wherever we're shipped,
Till we're ripping out guts with regret.
We're ready to bark to the government's bite,
Unless there's a forecast of frost overnight.
Provided it's seventy-one in the shade
And the boys take exceptional aim,
We will slaughter as if in a seaside arcade
And maim in Her Majesty's name.
We're ready to shoot you up, dead or alive,
Unless there is fog on the M25.
