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18.03.1990
10.05.2001 (.)
   




Barrack-Room Ballads. 11. Loot


If youve ever stole a pheasant-egg
                              beind the keepers back,
 	If youve ever snigged 
                              the washin from the line,
If youve ever crammed a gander 
                              in your bloomin aversack,
 	You will understand 
                              this little song o mine.
But the service rules are ard, 
                              an from such we are debarred,
 	For the same with English morals does not suit.
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!)
Why, they call a man a robber 
                              if e stuffs is marchin clobber
 	With the 
(Chorus)  Loo! loo!  Lulu! lulu!  Loo! loo!  Loot! loot! loot!
               	Ow the loot!
               	Bloomin loot!
            Thats the thing to make the boys git up an shoot!
             	Its the same with dogs an men,
             	If youd make em come again
            Clap em forward with a Loo! 
                              loo! Lulu! Loot!
    (ff)  Whoopee!  Tear im, puppy!  
                              Loo! loo! Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!
 
If youve knocked a nigger edgeways 
                              when es thrustin for your life,
 	You must leave im very careful 
                              where e fell;
An may thank your stars an gaiters
                              if you didnt feel is knife
 	That you aint told off 
                              to bury im as well.
Then the sweatin Tommies wonder 
                              as they spade the beggars under
 	Why lootin should be entered as a crime;
So if my song youll ear, 
                              I will learn you plain an clear
 	Ow to pay yourself for fightin overtime.
(Chorus)  With the loot, . . .
 
Now remember when youre acking 
                              round a gilded Burma god
 	That is eyes is very often                               
                              precious stones;
An if you treat a nigger 
                              to a dose o cleanin-rod
 	Es like to show you 
                              everything e owns.
When e wont prodooce no more, 
                              pour some water on the floor
 	Where you ear it answer ollow to the boot
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) 
When the ground begins to sink, 
                              shove your baynick down the chink,
 	An youre sure to touch the 
(Chorus)  Loo! loo!  Lulu!   Loot! loot! loot!
               	Ow the loot! . . .
 
When from ouse to ouse youre unting, 
                              you must always work in pairs 
 	It alves the gain,
                              but safer you will find 
For a single man gets bottled 
                              on them twisty-wisty stairs,
 	An a woman comes 
                              and clobs im from beind.
When youve turned em inside out, 
                              an it seems beyond a doubt
 	As if there werent enough to dust a flute
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) 
Before you sling your ook, 
                              at the ousetops take a look,
 	For its underneath the tiles they ide the loot.
(Chorus)  Ow the loot! . . .
 
You can mostly square a Sergint 
                              an a Quartermaster too,
 	If you only take 
                              the proper way to go;
I could never keep my pickins, 
                              but Ive learned you all I knew 
 	An dont you never say 
                              I told you so.
An now Ill bid good-bye, for 
                              Im gettin rather dry,
 	An I see another tunin up to toot
    		(Cornet:  Toot! toot!) 
So eres good-luck to those
                              that wears the Widows cloes,
 	An the Devil send em all they want o loot!
(Chorus)     Yes, the loot,
               				Bloomin loot!
            In the tunic an the mess-tin an the boot!
             	Its the same with dogs an men,
             	If youd make em come again
   (fff)  Whoop em forward with a Loo! 
                              loo!  Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!
            Heeya!  Sick im, puppy!  
                              Loo! loo!  Lulu!  Loot! loot! loot!



:
  1. A History of England. 1911. 17. The American Rebellion
  2. A History of England. 1911. 10. The King's Job
  3. The Front Door
  4. The Ballad of Ahmed Shah
  5. Chartres Windows




: 718



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