Sometimes I wear my medals,

sometimes folks ask me

what are they for,

I tell them, they nod and sometimes

put a little extra in my begging bowl.

 

But it's ok tonight,

got my whisky  in

my brown paper bag

got my cardboard box,

it's what I call home,

got Kevs sleeping bag

to keep me nice and warm,

poor old  Kev

he don't need it no more,

it was the booze that did for Kev.

 

Sometimes after the whisky

I fall asleep whistling that

old song we used to march to,

The British Grenadier.