Alf’s Fourth Bit

Rudyard the dud yard,
Rudyard the false measure,
Told ’em that glory
Ain’t always a pleasure,
But said it wuz glorious nevertheless
To lick the boots of the bloke
That makes the worst mess.

Keep up the grand system
Don’t tell what you know,
Your grandad got the rough edge.
Ain’t it always been so ?
Your own ma’ warn’t no better
Than the Duchess of Kaugh.
My cousin’s named Baldwin
An’ ‘e looks like a tofft

You ‘ark to the sargent,
And don’t read no books;
Go to God like a sojer;
What counts is the looks.