I was looking for some information about this song, and was surprised not to find it in the DT database, nor anything other than one passing reference from a Forum search. Under a variety of names it was at one time quite widespread, in England at any rate. Known as "Bungay Roger", "The Yorkshire Blinder", "The St. Mervyn Grinder", it seems to derive from a broadside from the Napoleonic wars. It expresses the bewilderment of a recruit at finding himself subject to military discipline, and contains the heartfelt plea of every raw recruit; "I wish I was at home again."

Anyway I've found out what I could about the song, and I'm posting the information here for future reference (over several messages), but I hope others will be able to add something as well.


MUDDLEY BARRACKS
(Tune: Sheepskin & Beeswax)

1. Now, when first I came to Turpiton Town,
They called me a funny old dodger,
They axed me over and over again,
If I would go for a soldier.
They axed me o'er and o'er again,
If I would collar a shiner,
And when I asked him what mob he was in,
He told me the Muddley Minor.

CHORUS: With your fol-the-lol-eye-dol, go fol-the-lol day,
Fol-the-lol-liddle, go laddie go wop.

2. Now, they marched me to Muddley Barracks,
By Christ, they were a sight, sir,
They shoved me under a bloody great shed,
The size of a fisherman's lugger.
They stood me under a damn great stick,
To measure my height and size, sir.
Then they cut my hair so close to my head,
I could hardly wink my eye, sir.

3. Now, they marched me out for drills next day,
To do my duty manual.
By Christ, and warn't I buggered about
By Corporal Smith and Emanuel.
It was first "Eyes Left!" then "Eyes Right!"
"Blast it! Hold up your head, sir!"
And I durst not say it's never a word,
Till I stopped in the digger instead, sir.

4. Now, they marched us off from drill that day,
I was hungry as a hound, sir.
But I dursn't touch a piece of grub,
Till old officer had been round, sir.
They served it up in bucket pans,
Yes, everyone had a platter,
Then they served us up a bloody great bone,
And only two potatoes.

5. Now, I wish that I was home again,
A-following the bloody old plough, sir.
Oh I wish that I was home again,
A-milking the bloody old cow, sir.
Oh I wish that I was home again,
Yes, feeding on taters and mutton,
With a rusty old knife and a thumping great bun,
By Christ! and wouldn't I cut 'em!


From the singing of Jumbo Brightwell, of Leiston, Suffolk.