Sung to the tune of Birmingham jail.
This song was some times sung in stalag 3D
Or a reasonable facsimile, and some times
With more rude words.
Someone would start it off and each bloke would
have a turn at making up a verse, then every one
joined in the chorus.
THE LETTER
Send me a parcel, send it by mail,
send it in care of, Stalag three jail.
I'm in the clink love, but I won't wail,
send it in care of, Stalag three jail.
Send me some Woodbines, one thousand will do,
But if you insist I will take two.
Make me some cake love, or send me some spam,
scones or a biscuit , or even some ham.
Don't wait for Christmas, Easter or Whit,
send something out here, cos I'm in the pit
I'm in the pit love, I'm in a rut,
Up to my nose love, with my mouth shut.
The goons just don't care love, as inward they lurch,
to "rous mit ihr schwinhund," we're conducting a search.
Conducting a search love, with a push and a shove.
For goon, guard or Jerry, we have no love.
The snow keeps on falling, and Christmas is near,
Don't warm my pillow for the New Year,
cos I will be here love, awaiting the end,
so please do your best love, the parcel to send.
Send me a parcel , send it to me,
send in care of, Stalag three D.
Jolly Herr Montag, with your monocle of glass,
You keep the prison camp, and stick it up yu' ass.
Write me a letter, send it by mail,
Send it in care of, Stalag three jail.
Stalag three jail love, for I'll never tire,
On reversing the view, of this bloody wire.
Jerry cannot break us, and for him we don't care,
As we watch the bombs drop, and feast on the glare.
We feast on the glare love, as all hell breaks loose,
For the time has come love, to cook Jerry's goose.
T.O.B 1997(c) |