Although I've served near thirty years,
Achieving rank high as can be.
I still remember first parade,
And sergeant starting feud with me.

We'd shuffled on parade in line,
Still yet to learn to dress our ranks;
Each nervous with anticipation,
While sergeant to the Lord gives thanks.

But now the time for first inspection,
Worried corporal standing nigh,
As sergeant moves on down our line,
Will he, won't he, pass me by?

In those days when just fifteen years
Yet five feet nine and very thin;
Cocky, full of verve and vim,
But not yet having shaved my chin.

So sense my fright when this grown man
With medal ribbons from the War,
Intent it seems on finding fault
Stops, stoops, then gives a roar.

I freeze with horror, sudden shock.
The corporal runs up with his book.
Do you see this? screams sergeant's voice.
A hairy chin, come take a look.

And they do, heads close together.
Both now peering at my chin.
Take his name the Sergeant murmurs,
Thus, I'm noted down for sin.

Black book closes, sergeant passes
And I think 'alright for some'.
But now he's shouting at another;
'Just you wait, I'll tell my mum'.

One morning safe in barracks while sitting on the loo,
Our Colonel, who'd put duty first, was wondering what to do.
Now, he'd sounded out the adjutant and the R.S. M.
He'd asked that pair what did they think would occupy the men.
They had answered 'drill, sir. Men love parade ground stuff'.
But the Colonel, after consultation, thought they'd had enough.
Their morale it should be lifted, satisfaction thus enjoyed.
'We must not have the men abused, but gainfully employed'.

Thus, next morning doing block jobs, the diggers were astonished
When told by sergeant of platoon that toilets must be polished.
''Tis for honour and the Company's pride' he'd said to busy soldier
'And pleased it is you'll be my boy before you're too much older.
That instead of stamping feet on square or theory of the gun,
Or concealment from an enemy, or stalking (which is fun),
You will spend your time with elbow grease each morning here with me,
Polishing taps and porcelain and cleaning lavatory'.

So that every week when CO. comes to look at WC.,
Accompanied by the Major and all the powers that be,
And they poke round toilet ledges, check louvred slats for dust,
These expert, fighting officers smelling drains because they must
Ensure their Colonels wish, and we to quench our Major's thirst,
So that of Battalion's toilets it's his that comes in first.
And young, fit, soldier volunteers, now feeling ****** annoyed,
Are to be denied all training to be gainfully employed.

But enough of silly moralising, holier than thee.
Who finally beat up all the rest for champion company?
Well, that was Sergeant Kusba, who were a devious swine.
He'd doctored water closets so they smelled like table wine.
Well, 'twer lemon essence really, after which one could not flush.
And a secret guard on toilet bowls to ward off morning rush.
Which was borne by me and Sergeant Glen 'til trickery did we smell,
After which we cornered Kusba in the Mess and gave him Hell.

So we as well began to use the lemon essence trick.
We all professed to satisfy but thought our Colonel thick,
As he stood at water closet breathing deeply, satisfied,
The diggers standing by their beds all laughed until they cried.
And the CSM., cognisant, fed up as much as we,
Served the Colonel and his minions a scrumptious morning tea.
Whilst they stood relaxed and at their ease upon our polished floor,
Between ***** trough on one side, on the other, closet door.

Cheshire on Parade - two

'Twas a bitter November morning,
With wind, icy hale, and some snow.
And one's fingers too cold to do buttons up.
If you've served at Carlisle you would know.

And I were recruit in the Army,
We were formed up for morning parade.
I thought my World had gone barmy
As I listened to sergeant's tirade.

He were going on about rifles,
That working parts had to be clean.
So that we'd **** all the enemy,
I thought he were just being mean.

But then he asked for my weapon,
Never call it a gun.
It's a cardinal sin in the Army,
Even to say it in fun.

Now I know I had started to clean it,
But pull-through had sort of got stuck,
When corporal had told me to get outside room
To pick up yesterday's muck.

Before breakfast our mornings were bedlam,
And I was always in trouble,
For corporal kept bellowing orders to room,
Wanting everything done at the double.

So pull-through remained in my rifle.
'Twere there when we fell in for drill.
And when sergeant asked for to look at it
I suddenly felt very ill.

He took it and grasped it by muzzle and stock,
There were no need to pull back the slide,
For I'd had to leave all the working parts out
'Cos. there weren't room with pull-through inside.

When sergeant saw this he just looked at me.
Through me 'twere better it said.
Then, suddenly 'Cheshire', he screamed, 'Who gave me you?'
And: 'why do I wish you were dead?'

There was nowt I could say back to sergeant,
Upset, as he was, standing there.
Useless explaining my pull-through
And more than I ever would dare.

I knew it was going to happen.
There was nowt I could say in the snow.
For as sergeant gave back my rifle, he snarled
'To the guard room, double, now go.'

I was warned about joining Army,
I was told that it wouldn't be fun
But nobody told me the trouble I'd have
With that pull-through stuck in my gun.