But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We ’eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ’oller.
Then ’ere’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid;
Our orders was to break you, an’ of course we went and did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an’ it wasn’t ’ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you bruk the square.
’E ’asn’t got no papers of ’is own,
’E ’asn’t got no medals nor rewards