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| WE ’VE fought with many men acrost the seas, | |
| An’ some of ’em was brave an’ some was not, | |
| The Paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese; | |
| But the Fuzzy was the finest o’ the lot. | |
| We never got a ha’porth’s change of ’im: | 5 |
| ’E squatted in the scrub an’ ’ocked our ’orses, | |
| ’E cut our sentries up at Suakim, | |
| An’ ’e played the cat an’ banjo with our forces. | |
| So ’ere ’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Soudan; | |
| You ’re a pore benighted ’eathen but a first-class fightin’ man; | 10 |
| We gives you your certificate, an’ if you want it signed | |
| We ’ll come an’ ’ave a romp with you whenever you ’re inclined. | |
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| We took our chanst among the Kyber ’ills, | |
| The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, | |
| The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, | 15 |
| An’ a Zulu impi dished us up in style: | |
| But all we ever got from such as they | |
| Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller; | |
| We ’eld our bloomin’ own, the papers say, | |
| But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us ’oller. | 20 |
| Then ’ere ’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ the missis and the kid; | |
| Our orders was to break you, an’ of course we went an’ did. | |
| We sloshed you with Martinis, an’ it was n’t ’ardly fair; | |
| But for all the odds agin’ you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square. | |
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| ’E ’as n’t got no papers of ’is own, | 25 |
| ’E ’as n’t got no medals nor rewards, | |
| So we must certify the skill ’e ’s shown | |
| In usin’ of ’is long two-’anded swords: | |
| When ’e ’s ’oppin’ in an’ out among the bush | |
| With ’is coffin-’eaded shield an’ shovel-spear, | 30 |
| An ’appy day with Fuzzy on the rush | |
| Will last an ’ealthy Tommy for a year. | |
| So ’ere ’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an’ your friends which are no more, | |
| If we ’ad n’t lost some messmates we would ’elp you to deplore; | |
| But give an’ take ’s the gospel, an’ we ’ll call the bargain fair, | 35 |
| For if you ’ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square! | |
| |
| ’E rushes at the smoke when we let drive, | |
| An’, before we know, ’e ’s ’ackin’ at our ’ead; | |
| ’E ’s all ’ot sand an’ ginger when alive, | |
| An’ ’e ’s generally shammin’ when ’e ’s dead. | 40 |
| ’E ’s a daisy, ’e ’s a ducky, ’e ’s a lamb! | |
| ’E ’s a injia-rubber idiot on the spree, | |
| ’E ’s the on’y thing that does n’t give a damn | |
| For a Regiment o’ British Infantree! | |
| So ’ere ’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your ’ome in the Soudan; | 45 |
| You ’re a pore benighted ’eathen but a first-class fightin’ man; | |
| An’ ’ere ’s to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your ’ayrick ’ead of ’air— | |
| You big black boundin’ beggar—for you broke a British square! | |
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