LOOT

If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,

If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, If you've 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!)

W'y, 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!

That's the thing to make the boys git up

an' shoot!

It's the same with dogs an' men,

If you'd make 'em come again

Clap 'em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu!

Loot!

(f) Whoopee! Tear 'im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

LOOT

If you've knocked a nigger edgeways when 'e's thrustin' for your life,

You must leave 'im very careful where 'e fell; An' may thank your stars an' gaiters if you didn't feel 'is knife

That you ain't 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 you'll 'ear, I will learn you plain an' clear 'Ow to pay yourself for fightin' overtime.

(Chorus) With the loot, . . .

Now remember when you're '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 'E's like to show you everything 'e owns.

When 'e won't 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' you're sure to touch the

(Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

When from 'ouse to 'ouse you're 'unting, you must always work in pairs

It 'alves the gain, but safer you will find—

LOOT

For a single man gets bottled on them twisty-wisty stairs, An' a woman comes and clobs 'im from be’ind. When you've turned 'em inside out, an' it seems beyond a doubt

As if there weren't enough to dust a flute

(Cornet: Toot! toot!)

Before you sling your 'ook, at the 'ousetops take a look, For it's 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 pickin's, but I've learned you all I knew

An' don't you never say I told you so.

An' now I'll bid good-bye, for I'm gettin' rather dry, An' I see another tunin' up to toot

(Cornet: Toot! toot!)

So 'ere's good-luck to those that wears the Widow's clo'es,

An' the Devil send 'em all they want o' loot!

In the tunic an' the mess-tin an' the boot!

It's the same with dogs an' men,

If you'd make 'em come again
(fff) Whoop 'em forward with a Loo! loo!
Lulu! Loot! loot! loot!

Heeya! Sick 'im, puppy! Loo! loo!

"SNARLEYOW”

THIS 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in

war;

An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember

now,

But Two's off-lead 'e answered to the name o' Snarle

yow.

Down in the Infantry, nobody cares;

Down in the Cavalry, Colonel 'e swears;

But down in the lead with the wheel at the flog Turns the bold Bombardier to a little whipped dog!

They was movin' into action, they was needed very

sore,

To learn a little schoolin' to a native army corps, They 'ad nipped against an uphill, they was tuckin'

down the brow,

When a tricky, trundlin' roundshot give the knock to Snarleyow.

They cut 'im loose an' left 'im-'e was almost tore in

two

But he tried to follow after as a well-trained 'orse

should do;

'E went an' fouled the limber, an' the Driver's Brother squeals:

"Pull up, pull up for Snarleyow-'is head's between 'is 'eels!"

The Driver 'umped 'is shoulder, for the wheels was goin' round,

An' there ain't no "Stop, conductor!" when a batt'ry's changin' ground;

Sez 'e: "I broke the beggar in, an' very sad I feels, But I couldn't pull up, not for you-your 'ead between your 'eels!"

'E 'adn't 'ardly spoke the word, before a droppin' shell A little right the batt'ry an' between the sections fell; An' when the smoke 'ad cleared away, before the

limber wheels,

There lay the Driver's Brother with 'is 'ead between 'is 'eels.

Then sez the Driver's Brother, an' 'is words was very plain,

"For Gawd's own sake get over me, an' put me out o' pain."

They saw 'is wounds was mortial, an' they judged that it was best,

So they took an' drove the limber straight across 'is back an' chest.