| |
| 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, | 5 |
| For the same with English morals does not suit. | |
| (Cornet: Toot! toot!) | |
| Why, they call a man a robber if ’e stuffs ’is marchin’ clobber 1 | |
| With the— | |
| (Chorus) Loo! loo! Lulu! lulu! Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot loot! loot! | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| Clap ’em forward with a Loo! loo! Lulu! Loot! | |
| (ff) Whoopee! Tear ’im, puppy! Loo! loo! Lulu! 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 | 20 |
| 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,… | 25 |
| |
| 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 | 30 |
| 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!
Ow the loot!… | 35 |
| |
| When from ’ouse to ’ouse you’re ’unting, you must always work in pairs— | |
| It ’alves the gain, but safer you will find— | |
| 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 | 40 |
| 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, | 45 |
| If you only take the proper way to go. | |
| I could never keep my pickin’s, but I’ve learned you all I knew— | |
| But 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 | 50 |
| (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! | |
| (Chorus) Yes, the loot, | |
| Bloomin’ loot! | 55 |
| 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! Lulu! Loot! loot! loot! | 60 |
