MONTGOMERY'S DUFF ©
D. H. KELLY.
Noo, the Laird o' Cockpen was a great man, nae doot,
Wha was held much in awe by the folks roon aboot;
But I'll tell ye a tale o' a man just as tough,
That's the man that ran aff wi' Montgomery's duff.
At El Alamein the Argylls went tae ground,
And auld Monty came up an' took wan look around,
Then says he tae the Brigie these fellows look hard,
Sure I'll take the Argylls for my own bodyguard.
Noo in the platoon that was detailed as such,
Was a man wha was commonly known as Red Hutch,
As crafty a dodger as ever ye saw,
Wha had stung a' the dhobies frae Perth tae Peshawar.
Then aff up the desert went Monty, pell mell,
On the track o' the Huns who were runnin' like hell;
An' wis he mighty glad when the going was hard,
That he'd ta'en the Argylls for his ain' bodyguard.
When once at the close o' a real hectic day,
Auld Monty had ordered a halt by the way,
" To-night, I beseech you," he says to his cook,
"For to fix me a dumplin' by hook or by crook."
Noo, the cook was a Geordie, a resourceful young man,
Wha despised ony duff that cam' oot o' a can,
So there in a twinklin' he'd oot o' his pot,
A great, big steamin' dumplin' aw' savoury an' hot.
Red Hutch an' his cronies were havin' a shot
0' Palm toddy and Arak an' guzzlin' the lot,
When his eye caught the dumplin' aw' laid oot tae cool,
Whaur the cook he had left it on Monty's footstool.
So Hutch made a recce an' weighed up the case,
An' made straight for the foot-stool at leisurely pace,
There he gained his objective unknown tae the cook,
An' made aff wi' the dumplin' under his jook.
The cook was demented, he raved an' he cursed,
Of all pirates he'd read the Argylls were the worst,
An' he said o' damned Jocks he had seen quite enough-
So here ends the tale o' Montgomery's duff.