| Lyrics: | Get at 'em.
There was a load bloody faries,
In Buenos bloody Aries,
With greasy hair
and sweaty bums,
They'd never heard of Bonningtons,
It were a different culture and a
different race,
No chippies in bloody place.
You can keep that poof
Fartiles,
'Cos we're going to have your Malvines.
Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey
up.
Well, they got us back son, without a doubt,
Time to sort them bastards
out,
Costa Mendes lives in fear
Of real men who can hold their beer.
Sing hey
hey hey the lads are on their way,
With their bayonets and their tommy guns
And their
bellies full of Bonningtons.
Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey up. Whoo!
Get in there my
son, let's set up a couple of pubs.
Let the bitter flow, nuke 'em till they
glow...
Hey up, hey up, hey up, hey up.
Fray Bentos and cheap red wine is all they
eat in the Argentine,
But after a scrap with the English Navy,
They'll ask for the recipe
for chips and gravy.
Sing hey, hey, hey, the lads are on their way,
With their
bayonets and their tommy guns,
And their bellies full of Bonningtons.
(Repeat to end |
