Bully beef and cocoa—you’re right when in the fray.
Cold roast beef and pickles—in barracks you’re my lay.
Chicken soup and jellies, in hospital you get.
But I’d swap ’em all, and welcome, for you, my cigarette.
When the “Black Marias” are tumbling, dancing, bursting, spitting, grumbling;
And to blow us all to bits is what they’re after;
Ah, my little cigarette, you’re the cheeriest friend I’ve met,