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: ‘ 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; We gives you your certificate, an’ if you want it signed We'll come an’‘ ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Khyber‘ ills, The Boers knocked us silly at a mile, The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills, 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.
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.
‘ E‘ as n't got no papers of‘ is own, ‘ 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, 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, 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.
‘ 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; 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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