Porterage downnThe dark gross chapelnHe stepped streets around nownSales person mobilenPorterage downnDark gross chapelnHe stepped streets around nownWas introduced by a woman loose-limbed, slimnOne woke up to a whitewashed ugly wall - whoosh!nMade worse by dirty postcardsnTrapped in their townnThey're embracing criminals in panicky hallnNo temper for Fall groupnI'll put you downnPorterage downnTo the dark gross chapelnHe stepped streets around nownSales-person, mobilenI'll put you downnTo the gross chapelnYou were right said PeternDying for a smokenBut you shouldn't have said to the policenJobs I do are little thingsnLike the chemist coming on insultednThey were as fed up as I wasnWaiting outside after putting blame on younPorterage downnAsk him! I am ailingnPorterage downnThen let us fill a bumper,nAnd drink a health to thosenWho carry caps and pouches,nAnd wear the louped clothes.nMay they and their commandersnLive happy all their yearsnWhene'er we are commandednTo storm the palisadesnOur leaders march with fusees,nAnd we with hand grenades.nWe throw them from the glacis,nAbout the enemies' ears.nSing tow, row, row, row, row, row,nFor the British Grenadiers.nI'll put you down