T'was Christmas Day in the cookhouse, The happiest day of the year, All hearts were filled with gladness, All bellies filled with beer. In strode the Defence Minister, Through the Dining Halls, He said "Good morning, Squaddies!", And the Squaddies answered, "Balls!". That irked the Defence Minister, He said "That was not good. If you don't mind your manners, You'll have no Christmas pud!" Then up spake one old Full-screw, With neck of solid brass, "We don't want your Christmas pudding, You can shove it up your arrse!" Then they seized the Defence Minister, Though he fought with might and main, But they cut his private parts off, And flushed 'em down the drain.