Here it is then:

You Old Sod, Yer – Ned Clamp with no apologies to Jon Heslop

He came at first from Deutschland, then Southampton, then south Wales,
That tiny little baby born to play.
As he grew he found his voice, moved to Cornwall, then, by choice,
That young man who's much older now today.

Ch: You old sod, yer, still drinking in the bars,
       Will knock back the tankards, mugs, and jars.
       With your pipe and a song, you know we'll sing along,
       You old sod, yer, you'll never fade away.

He's fond of Captain Morgan's, and of Wood's and Lamb's as well,
Fine wines and food, real chocolate, no contest!
Doing housework without whining, God, he even does the ironing.
But playing with his train set is the best.

No fags, cigars or stogies, just his favourite old pipe,
Because up with that stuff he will not put.
Cherry baccy scented breezes create no coughs or wheezes,
Only the occasional fall of soot.

When in Wales, the mines were striking, he wrote so many songs,
If we'd had one then, he'd've sent them to the Senedd.
When some Cymraeg now he sought, the phrase that he was taught:
Dwy'n hoffi mynd I clwb gwerin mewn hofrennydd.

Now his friends and his family are gathered in this place,
To celebrate their withered old mate.
Out of pride and our respect, we'll sing with heads erect
To that hero of 1948.


PS: This is the original - Old Soldiers is the parody - ask Jon!