Old Monk

Sung to the tune of Colonel Bogey March

 

 

Brewed in those mysterious places

Sugarcane molested to molasses

Seen in Army Officers Messes

And sweating truckers embraces

 

Jamaica palls in comparison,

Scotch hides its face, my son

We have sugar cane, and cork

A population blessed by the stork

The lions in this country are men

Forever drunk and sunk in rum remain

 

Refrain

O God in thy haloed domains

In this daily hooch I shall remain

Bearer, bring me a Patiala

Old Monk, and a glass of Cola

Add two small rinds of lemon

And cheers, I say to the Demon

 

When I was a young man

Messes had the rum ban

Whiskey was for the evening

Beer- Sundays we used to sing

Then came the war of 1971

Alcohol fell short, no fun

We looked ‘ere n there, now come

And take a sip of the banal rum

It was Hercules that wet our lips

Into the battle, guns firing from our hips

 

The enemy was the poor Pakistani

Khaki soldiers, sans rum, no money

They gave up the battle too soon, God bless

Victory celebrated in the Officers Mess

 

Refrain

O God in thy haloed domains

In this daily hooch I shall remain

Bearer, bring me a Patiala

Old Monk, and a glass of Cola

Add two small rinds of lemon

And cheers, I say to the Demon

 

Want more? Will write responses to your comments…

Ah! I have the cork colored square bottle waiting somewhere…

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