The lads were lined up, wi' their plates an' their cups,
cos it were dinnertime down at the camp.
But the sarge were enraged, at the cooks on parade,
cos the buggers 'ad run out o' Spam.
'E said."Yer ain't got no Spam?"They said."We've got bread an' jam,
we've even a big tub o' marge'"
'E looked 'em straight in the eyes, 'e said. "Aye don't be so fly,
I want Spam, or yer all on a charge."
They said. "Supplies are at t' rear, they're nowhere near 'ere."
Sarge said. "Send 'em a message right quick."
Then 'e started t' shout. "Get the pigeon post out!"
"There's only Albert," they said, "an' 'e's sick."
They said. " 'E were a good scout, knew 'is way all about,
trouble is with 'im bein' on t' pension.
'Is wings aren't the same, what wi' th'arthritic pain,
an' a prostate 'e'd rather not mention."
Now t' Sarge were depressed, well 'e weren't right impressed,
when they'd showed 'im the bird in the cage.
'E said. " 'E'll not get very far, unless yer teck 'im by car,"
an' then 'e shot off in a rage.
In a bit 'e returned wi' what looked like an urn,
'e said, " 'ere strap it firm to 'is back.
An' stiffen up 'is wings wi' wood an' some string,
so 'e can glide an' 'e won't 'ave t' flap."
As they got Albert ready, 'e didn't look too steady,
especially when they tied on 'is cap.
Poor Albert looked boggled, when they clipped on some goggles,
an' t' sergeant 'e give 'im a map.
'E said. "It's all down t' you, I've done all I can do,
get this message t' th'eadquarters quick."
But when 'e lit up the fuse, Albert looked right confused,
in fact the poor bird looked quite sick.
Well, 'e shot off with a roar, an' 'is bum got right sore,
as the flames made short work of 'is feathers.
'E flew off at a pace, wi' the wind in 'is face,
'e were glad 'e were wearin' 'is leathers.
Sarge said. "The lads got some bottle, 'e's usin' full throttle,
'e'll be there in an 'our I dare say."
Well, maybe 'e would, if the weather were good,
an' the bugger weren't pointin' wrong way.
'E flew over a farm, 'e didn't mean no 'arm,
but 'e seemed t' be losin' control.
'E were 'igh up aloft, when the engine it coughed,
an' 'e plummeted down in a roll.
'E skimmed over the ground with 'is beak pointin' down,
spikin' carrots an' turnips an' leeks.
An' then with a thud, 'e crashed into some spuds,
an' exploded 'e did so t' speak.
The farmer were there, an' started t' stare,
as 'e pulled Albert out of an 'edge.
'E thought. "Is it for real? The first in flight meal,
roast pigeon, some spuds an' three veg."
