We are a band of buggers. We're always chasing tail

If we weren't in the Army we would prob'ly be in jail

And when our honor's questioned, we always give this answer

"Well, what did you expect when you are dealing with a Lancer?"

Kiss off, kiss off, we always give this answer

"Well, what did you expect when you are dealing with a Lancer?"

We always cause a ruckus when we are on the town

The singing and the brawling you can hear for miles around

The bar-room and the brothel put on a double shift

We're chasing after drinks and trim, until our transports lift

Lay down, lay down, she'll work a double shift

We're chasing after drinks and trim, until our transports lift

And when our tour is over, and we are finally home

We'll sit down by our fire-sides and never more will roam

Our wives will bring us mugs of beer to ease our burning thirst

And gladly will we raise a toast to the F***ing Twenty-First

Drink up, drink up, to ease our burning thirst

And gladly will we raise a toast to the F***ing Twenty-First