We cast off and set sail from Dover,
We head for the sun to Calais,
We shall prevail,
With two dozen ales
And a Drum of spiced rum on the way,
Rummy raiders,
Booze crusaders
We plundered the cheese ham and snide bread,
The canvas replaced by the bars,
Sunstroked and wishing we were dead,
Our lobster skin's our calling card
Then from the shade,
We surge for the stage,
Sail to the east,
For maidens and priests
At sun down, It's our town.
We squandered our treasure in Deutschland,
They danced for our pleasure in 'dam,
Burned but alive,
But we must survive,
With noodles and old tins of spam,
Stoned, Broke, With sunstroke.