At the funeral parlournJust before leavingnI leaned into the coffinnTo kiss the old mannnOn the foreheadnI kissed him on the lipsnLooked up at his wifenAnd his third sonnnAnd his only daughternAnd his eldest granddaughternHis eldest grandsonnAnd his son in lawnnMy sweet girlfriendnShe leaned into the coffinnUnclipped his RSL badgenAnd took off his Tobruk pinnnShe held them in her open palmsnAnd gestured to the family, she saidnI've got the badgesnWho wants to go through the pockets?nnI told my girlfriendnMy sweet girlfriendnThere's only blue fluffnIn my Dad's pocketsnnYou've got the badgesnI've got the storiesnStories cost nothingnBut they are my treasuresnnThey are my treasuresnThey are my fortunenThey are my culturenThey are my lifennI am a rich mannWith my father's storiesnYou've got the badgesnWho wants to go through the pockets?nnWho wants to go through the pockets?