My Bay'nit

When first I left Blighty they gave me a bay'nit

And told me it‘ ad to be smothered wiv gore;

But blimey! I‘ ave n't been able to stain it,

So far as I've gone wiv the vintage of war.

For ai n't it a fraud! when a Boche and yours truly

Gits into a mix in the grit and the grime,

‘ E jerks up‘ is‘ ands wiv a yell and‘ e's duly

Part of me outfit every time.

At toasting a biscuit me bay'nit' s a dandy;

I've used it to open a bully beef can;

For pokin’ the fire it comes in werry‘ andy;

For any old thing but for stickin’ a man.

‘ Ow often I've said: “‘ Ere, I'm goin’ to press you

Into a‘ Un till you're seasoned for prime,”

And fiercely I rushes to do it, but bless you!

Part of me outfit every time.

I'm‘ untin’ for someone to christen me bay'nit,

Some nice juicy Chewton wot's fightin’ in France;

I'm fairly down -‘ earted —‘ ow CAN yer explain it?

I keeps gettin’ prisoners every chance.

As soon as they sees me they ups and surrenders,

Extended like monkeys wot's tryin’ to climb;

And I uses me bay'nit — to slit their suspenders —

Part of me outfit every time.