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smallstepsmadpotepotriemantheartfulcodgerscog
Each is Father of his Regiment.
They come in all shapes and sizes,
Full of wit and wisdom
And many little surprises.
They've got where they are by
Combination of skill and luck
And they know every wrinkle,
Probably wrote the book.

If you’re on the carpet before one
For breaking military law
Before you try  to gull him
Remember, he's heard it all before.
I've stood there's before him
Trying my very best,
Trying to touch the heart
Supposedly beating in his chest.

He's the Regimental Sar’nt Major
With The Fried Egg on his sleeve
And he can let you off
Or he can make you grieve.
If your story’s good enough
Though it may be blatant lies
Sometimes you can bring
That twinkle to his eyes

And you can walk unpunished
Back through his office door
But with the implied warning,
Go and sin no more.
That's the time to lie low,
Lead a quieter life
Keep out of trouble,
Avoid all the strife.

Life's a daily gamble
No two of them the same
When you try to buck the odds
In the barmy army game.
He's the Father of his Regiment
And he knows all the tricks:
Cross him once too often and
He’ll hit you like a ton of bricks.







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