The
Red Cross keep us fit and well
With many a tasty dish
No sooner is the issue made
We fry up spuds and fish |
The chocolate lasts a little spell
Our prunes we soak and stand
Twelve biscuits spread with butter thick
My word they do taste grand |
The meat roll fried in margarine
With Yorkshire salt and milk
While toast and butter heaped with jam
Slides down like folds of silk |
The bully smeared with mustard
Between two hunks of bread
Can be described as having
All powers to turn the head |
The oatmeal mixed with rasins
Makes porridge sweet and stiff
Our breakfast cheese warmed on the toast
Gives a savoury niff |
Pork sausages baked in eggs
Mixed veg with Irish stew
Sweet custard smoothed o'er apple duff
At last we rest and sip our brew |
The creamed rice sweets and apricots
We hold for yet a while
While cocoa in the evening hours
Completes the welcome pile |
Maybe I've missed the honey sweet
The golden syrup two
But if their are some missing tins
I leave the rest to you |
Without the Red Cross helping us
Our lives we might have lost
So when the war has passed us by
We help what e'er the cost |
The cigarettes we cherish most
Their help is great indeed
When food is short we pull the belt
For nicotine is feed |
My text to you is finnished
No more there is to be
The weekly Red Cross parcel gift
To you I bend my knee. |