He's the father of the regiment
As any vet will know
And it's him not the Colonel
Who really runs the show
And if the RSM
Is anywhere near
The wise squaddie
Steers well clear
Ours was shiny bald
And he heard what I'd said
When I nicknamed him
The Old Skinhead
It was Glasby's fault
And old Jock Gray
For they got the drink
That fateful day
And we were all
Of an easy mind
And in the cinema
He'd sat just behind
And it happened
Wouldn't you just know
As I stage whispered
The sound went low
And most of the crowd
Heard what I'd said
When I nicknamed him
The Old Skinhead
I never looked
Didn't turn
But I could feel
His glare burn
His revenge was sweet
For almost a year
He silently made me
Live in fear
He's the father of the regiment
As any vet will know
And it's him not the Colonel
Who really runs the show