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`Ave you `eard o` the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy gold crown on `er `ead?
She `as ships on the foam--she `as millions at `ome,
An` she pays us poor beggars in red.
(Ow, poor beggars in red!)
There`s `er nick on the cavalry `orses,
There`s `er mark on the medical stores--
An` `er troopers you`ll find with a faif wind be`ind
That takes us to various wars.
(Poor beggars!--barbarious wars!)
Then `ere`s to the Widow at Windsor,
An` `ere`s to the stores an` the guns,
The men an` the `orses what makes up the forces
0` Missis Victorier`s sons.
(Poor beggars! Victorier`s sons!)
Walk wide o` the Widow at Windsor,
For `alf o Creation she owns:
We `ave bought `er the same with the sword an` the flame,
An` we`ve salted it down with our bones.
(Poor beggars!--it`s blue with our bones!)
Hands off o` the sons of the Widow,
Hands off o` the goods in `er shop,
For the Kings must come down an` the Emperors frown
When the Widow at Windsor says `Stop`!
(Poor Beggars!--we`re sent to say `Stop`!)
Then `ere`s to the Lodge o` the Widow,
From the Pole to the Tropics it runs--
To the Lodge that we tile with the rank an` the file,
An` open in form with the guns.
(Poor beggars!--it`s always they guns!)
We `ave `eard o` the Widow at Windsor,
It`s safest to leave `er alone:
For `er sentries we stand by the sea an` the land
Wherever the bugles are blown.
(Poor beggars!--an` don`t we get blown!)
Take `old o` the Wings o` the Mornin`,
An` flop round the earth till you`re dead;
But you won`t get away from the tune that they play
To the bloomin` old Rag over`ead.
(Poor beggars!--it`s `ot over`ead!)
Then `ere`s to the sons o` the Widow
Wherever, `owever they roam.
`Ere`s all they desire, an` if they require
A speedy return to their `ome.
(Poor beggars!--they`ll never see `ome!)
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