Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Old Army Songs - Those were the days!

There is an old 8th Army song from Egypt which has been running through my mind in the past few days and I just wonder if anyone knows the whole song - or even another part of it. It was - as always - bit irreverent to the reigning monarch but no one seemed to mind that - it went -
Queen Farida give us bakksheesh,
Queen Farida give us bakksheesh,
for we all love the King,
and we all love the Queen -
but we'ed rather love Farida than Farouk - Baa din !

Needless to say - this was prior to the advent of the Africa Corps with their now famous Lili Marlene

13 Comments:

Blogger Frank Mee said...

We had one more verse but there were dozens.

King Farouk, King Farouk,
Hang your Bol##### on a hook
Stanaswire pull your Wire
king Farouk Bar Din.

Wednesday, 05 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Frank -
that's the one - the longer it went on the worse it became - I'm sure Ron would know a few verses !

Wednesday, 05 April, 2006  
Blogger Ron Goldstein said...

Gents

What an interesting thread, but I'm shocked to the core that Tom could possibly think that I would know any of the words of that scurrilous song !!!!!

Having said that.......

I decided to do some genuine research and keyed in "King Farouk bawdy song" into GOOGLE and was delighted to find quite a few itens, the best and most explicit of which was:
SOLDIERS' SONGS: THE FOLKLORE OF THE POWERLESS
This is Copyright to Les Cleveland, and the link is:
http://facstaff.buffalostate.edu/fishlm/folksongs/les01.htm
(the last characters : les01.htm)

So glad that I can keep this thread in the area of positive, clean thinking, research.

Wednesday, 05 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Nothing scurrilous about my simple question which was - "does anyone else know the whole song " - perfectly innocent question - but then - if the cap fits !- after all I never did get to Egypt for a month long holiday

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Frank Mee said...

Tom, you set the old brain box going and I had pictures in my head from that time I did not know I had remembered.
We had made it back to Shandur the 4th RTR base with a lot of odd bods. 6th Para's 42 Marine Commando and odd groups from just about every mob in the army that came from Palestine by the back door instead of lowering the colours and sailing from the front door.
Our free time what little there was would be the open air cinema or the Naafi drinking Stella beer. We sat in groups singing the verses of that song:-
Queen Farida queen of all the wogs,
See her feed the Arabs to her dogs
Farida is it true
Our Monty slept with you
Staniswire pull your wire
King Farouk Bar Din

Many and varied were the verses and when it came to our turn I would give them:-
Queen Farida swimming in the Nile
Were she met this enormous crocodile
The crocodile it flew
Saying I cannot keep up with you
Staniswire pull your wire
King Farouk Bar Din.

All would be peace and tranquility until a Para wanted to kiss a Marine then all hell broke loose.
We had a tame Glaswegian with us he would sing with gusto but his only words of conversation were B####cks and F### you or at least that was all we understood.He could push start a Comet Tank and not break sweat.
We looked after him because he hated the army and anyone above the rank of Corporal. When he had guard duty the whole squad would wash him polish him and carry him on to the guard mounting telling him to keep his mouth shut, we hoped he would get stick man which he usually did. If not, threatening to unscrew the Orderly Officers head and shove the Orderly Sergeant up his rear did not go down well, he saw more of the cells than the lines.
When war broke out as the Para's and Martines had their fun I would say go get em Mac and he would slap me lovingly on the back knocking me flat on my face as he said thanks frank and galloped off to the fray. We Gentlemen would take out beer and crawl under the fixed furniture so we could carry on drinking and pass suitable comment like:- kick him in the B#### Mac or put that mans head back on right now. It would finish when the Garrison Police rushed in and threatened to shut the bar, we got little enough drinking time as it was. Mac would come back with half a dozen bottles he had lifted from someones table and we would end the sports night with a few rousing choruses of Lily Marlene, King Farouk then the sob stuff, Angeline and White cliffs of Dover. We usually had to sing I belong to Glasgow before Mac would let us leave.
We worked hard and had some ribald fun because there was nothing else to do in our spare time what little we had. I remember it as good unlike some I have memories of.

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Frank - sounds like you had more fun than we ever did - it was all very posh in the Alexander club in Rome until the paras bet the commandos that they could lasso the giant chandelier and swing a ala Tarzan - the bet was on and one of the paras was swinging away merrily until the bolts loosened and he fell some six stories to the ground - on being rescued he then admitted that it was probably his last jump - he was right - he had broken his back !
Or the time in Vienna when six Argyll's decided to take on a platoon of Russians - the whole battalion found themselves as far from the Russians as the Corps Commander could move them !

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Frank Mee said...

I started to wonder what ever happened to Mac or McAllister. He was only happy when away from authority and had us to look after him.
He once in Port Said wrecked the arab market stalls because a boot black boy threw dye on his hosetops. A company of MPs with a German town patrol managed to net him and drag him to the cells. We went looking for him and they let him out saying he had eaten a ten man box of compo rations including the compo tea and the bax then asked for more. They said get him to hell out of town and fast, they did not like the local Arabs either.
I would take him on the tank park as we loaded tanks on the transporters for Tel El Kabir a one or two man job because of the shortage of drivers. Mac would guide me onto the transporter trailer as I did not trust the Gafirs or local Arab workers after a couple of near misses nearly putting a track off the trailer.
Once we were loaded we would set off for Tel El kabir in our Diamont "T's" two trailers as it was pretty flat going. Mac could not drive but he loved to be out of garrison and would open up.
To him Glasgow was heaven on earth and the Gorbals the garden of Eden, having been to both I thought he had a queer idea of heaven.
He had a girl back home a thin waif in the photo but she ruled the roost, I think she was the only person in this world he was afraid of.
He was the best man to have around the night our post was over run, we got to the block house in one piece because he was like a raging bull. Another story that according to records never happened.
When we got the order for Cyprus, it was pack your kit and be on the truck for the station in an hour. We were on the train to Port Said and on the boat that night. Mac was in tears, take me with you frank, I felt as if I was leaving a faithful dog but could do nothing about it.
I never heard any more about him as the old 662 moved to Tel El kabir and broke up.
Stir the memory Tom and it all comes back. Yes we had some great times but the bad ones were bad. The BMH then convalescent camp and those bloody blues. Sand storms, flies, scorpions, and burning yourself every time you touched a tank to climb in. No dancing apart from a couple of runs to Port Said or a big hairy Tankee in the Naafi. Only a pretty Camel for female company!! I am gald I had the experience.

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Frank -
we had a character like your Mac when we were in Algiers waiting to move on to Bone and the regiment.
The weather was steaming and all the food appeared to be M&V stew
we were in eight man tents and Mac Donald disappeared - to return with lashings of good food with instructions to eat up fast and then clean up every plate.
Pretty soon there was hell on as "someone" had stolen the Officers Dinner.
WE lost Mac after a guard on the Algiers Docks when he went walkabout - and "found " three new uniforms - next morning at guard stand down - he dressed very carefully in his "New" uniform in the gloom of the guardhouse.
The RSM was quite interested in why he was wearing a Green/Khaki uniform of the Canadian army as opposed to the Brown/Khaki uniform of the British army.
MacDonald is probably still in the glasshouse as he had been a commando and was badly wounded at Lofoten Island before becoming a gunner in the Tanks.

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Frank Mee said...

Tom Guess what we were issued in 1947 as a best uniform. Green Canadian battle dress with faced collars you could not close up like our BD. American shirts with the neck flap. After a week of open necks which we thought were great we were issued Khaki wool ties, so ended our freedom. I had that uniform until it wore out and did not want ot go back into rough BD's but had too. It was one hell of a bird puller too.

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Frank - don't remember when we got ties but they were still odd when we were in Austria - all the old squaddies and officers had left for the U.k. and we were getting up to strength very slowly.
When upon the scene comes this little man with a sheepskin jacket a la Monty - name of Screiber who spoke excellent German and was made into the Squadron Interpreter with no other introduction - anyway - everyone thought he was an officer with the wool tie and he demanded a jeep to go to HQ at Althoven. This was produced toot sweet and he was off - well all that winter he had the lance jack Jeep driver going nuts driving him all over the place with nary a word of thanks.
As alway spring follows winter, and the sheepskin came off to reveal a lowly lance jack,whereupon the Jeep driver belted him one in the eye !He said it was worth losing his stripe !

Thursday, 06 April, 2006  
Blogger Frank Mee said...

Our biggest shock was the four days at Ringway run by the RAF. Sheets, Pillow cases, Choice of food and no parades apart from assembly. To say our eye's bulged does not describe it.
Once in the Middle East and at Shandur we got sheets and pillow cases even a choice of food but only in the garrison. KD's in Summer BD after sundown in winter we did not wear ties until I arrived post haste in Cyprus just in time for the shirt sleeve season.
The wooly pully did away with ties in England. Disruptive Khaki trousers shirt and pullover was usually working dress for the SNCO's the lads wore tank suits.
All a big change from those Denims that look like waste bags.

Friday, 07 April, 2006  
Blogger Tomcann said...

Frank -
the only two times I had sheets and all the bedding was when I was in various hospitals, and at a place called Vaprio de Adio near Milan when I was on some kind of course - we were living in a millionaires mansion - and the servants couldn't do enough for us, shoes shined every night - laundry every night- fantastic food served on damask tablecloths - this was living
but it only lasted a week then it was back to barracks in Austria for the winter.

Friday, 07 April, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Queen Farida queen of all the wogs

Queen Farida shagged by all the dogs.

Queen Faridas gone away cos she"s
in the family way.

staniswya pull your wire King
Farouk. ------- ba din.

Friday, 30 June, 2006  

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