O, the Port of Tobruk is a wonderful sight,
Where the Junkers are bombing by day and by night;
They never stop bombing, I don`t think they will'
Except to give way to old Bardia Bill! (A 6" mobile gun)
There`s no one but Rockies (RNVR Officers)from here to Matruh
They may be bomb-happy, but they`re never blue:
Take me back where the bombers are waiting for me-
Where the sands of the desert sweep down to the sea.
O, they say that Tobruk`s an invisible sight,
When the ships are all seeking that little green light;
There`s trawlers and whalers and A Lighters there,
And tankers and wrecks like the Jebel Kebir.
The Aussies say "Bonzer", the Nazis say "Heil"
The Ities are still trying to get to the Nile:
I may be bomb-happy -- that’s the one place for me ,
Where the sands of the desert sweep down to the sea.
There`s a small desert port called Mersa Matruh.
Which is noted for heavens knows what;
But C-in-C Med. as he pored over charts,
Said, "Eh!" That’s exactly the spot. We`ll send the
A Lighters to Mersa Matruh,
Said C-in-C Med to his staff,
So arrange everything for their comfort, me lads,
Get them feather beds, beer and a bath! So straightway, staff left Sir Andrew
To do as their Admiral had said:
But one old Commander said, "Lighters, my foot,
Lets have a few pinkers instead.
From the Union to Pastroudi`s grill--
And, as no one has seen them from that day to this,
I expect that they`re boozing there still.
For when the A Lighters arrived at Matruh,
In response to C-in-C`s call,
There were no feather beds, no beer, no bath,
In fact there was damn all of all!
Now, poor officer chap, what`s in charge of t`base,
Has sent signals by sea, air and land;
But C-in-C answers: "It`s all been arranged ,
My staff have the matter in hand"
But staff, as we know, are still on t`booze,
So it`s useless to grumble and shout,
For there`ll be no comforts in Mersa Matruh
Till the Pink Gin in Alex runs out.