(Parenthesized lyrics are not actually sung.) nnWhen the Hussars had been driven back towards the Pimplenand drifting sand and smoke were having their effect — were they ever —nbefore the gunner boys — good on ya — up on Mosque ridgentook out all the Italian Artillery on that Pimplenand the Australians came up from Benghazi,nnIt was the Rifle Brigade, the Rifle Brigade,nwith their famous one-armed colonel,nthat held the line to the south and so managed the end of the entire Italian 10th army at Beda Fomm,nnThe Rifle Brigade, with Little Bill Crib as one of the enlisted men.nNow, everyone should know — but they don't —nabout that bus-Fiat full of Italian damsels,npatting on yet more mascara and foundationing up their noses,nwith their own private priest, forgiving them their lack of decent stockings and scent.nnO'Conner sent them on their way, needless to say,nbut what if he had given them to Little Bill Crib,na real enterpriser,nwith not half-bad contacts (though nobody knew it),nbut fully nefarious intentions.nnI'll take them back to Cairo at midnight St Valentine's day;nHad the local greek make me up a sign that said in arabic style english:nBig Bill Crib and his Ladies of the Desert.nOpen for business Every Day of the week except when I say that we ain't.nnAnd the customers came and the customers went (and I started noticing something off),nI begrudged each not-at-all a gentleman for having his crack at my winter woman in question,nand so sought to raise the standards for the clientele.nBut that didn't manage to rest my head.nSo that night I looked at myself in the shaving mirror scornfully and told myself the truth, nnBig Bill Crib's fallen in love with his Ladies of the Desert,nevery single one of them.nnThose February desert dust 40 degree Winter Women were the ruin of me. n