The Royal Arse Hortillery
Behold the English army as it marches off to war,
Where the musket balls do whistle, and the mighty cannon roar.
But there you’ll find them at the back, a motley bunch I fear,
The Royal Arse Hortillery are bringing up the rear.
They’ve been in every conflict down from Agincourt to Mons,
And many is the battlefield their butts have rested on.
In Flanders Field they sat around with bugger-all to do,
With Wellington they even sat upon the Water-loo.
Their officers are gentlemen and very highly bred,
Their ensign shows a toilet seat upon a horse’s head.
Of medals they have many, like the famous Croix de Guerre,
Which being French, they like to pin upon their derrieres.
They always seem, unhappy and they never ever smile,
For every single one of them is suffering from piles.
There’s talk about suppositories and many tales of woe,
When the Royal Arse Hortillery goes out to meet the foe.
And so young man if you decide, a soldier you must be,
To fight in wars in foreign lands may be your destiny.
Then please don’t sign that dotted line for sure t’would be a farce,
To wind up in a regiment that marches on its arse.
Jeff Eardley lives in the heart of England near to the Peak District National Park and is a local musician playing guitar, mandolin and piano steeped in the music of America, including the likes of Ry Cooder, Paul Simon, and particularly Hank Williams.
