There are two versions in the database of Abdul. This may be a bit different:

BALLAD OF IVAN PETROFSKY SKEVAR

The sons of the Prophet are valiant and bold
And wholly impervious to fear,
But the bravest of all was a man by the name
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

If you wanted a man to encourage the van,
Or harass the foe from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt, you had only to shout
For Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

This son of the desert in battle aroused
Could spit twenty men on his spear.
A terrible creature, sober or soused,
Was Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer

There are brave men in plenty, and well known to fame,
In the army that's run by the Czar,
But the bravest of all was a man by the name
Of Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

He could imitate Irving, tell fortunes by cards,
And play on the Spanish guitar.
In fact, quite the cream of the Muscovite team
Was Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

The ladies all loved him. His rivals were few.
He could drink them all under the bar.
As gallant or tank there was no one to rank
With Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

One day that bold Russian, he shouldered his gun,
And with his most cynical sneer,
Was going downtown, when he came right upon
Brave Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

"Young man," said Boul Boul, "is existence so dull
That you hanker to end your career?
For, infidel, know you have trod on the toe
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

"So take your last look upon sky, sea, brook,
And send your regrets to the Czar,
For by this I imply, you are going to die,
O you Ivan Petrofsky Skevar."

"But your murderous threats are to me but a joke,
For my pleasure and pastime is war,
And I'll tread on your toes whene'er I may choose,"
Quoth Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

Then that brave Mameluke drew his trusty chabook,
Singing, "Allah! Il Allah! Akbar!"
And with murder intent he ferociously went
At Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

But the Russian gave back not a step at th' attack,
For Ivan had never known fear,
And with quickly aimed gun, put a stop to the fun,
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

Yet the whistling chabook did like lightning descend,
And caught Ivan right over the ear;
But the bayonet of Ivan pressed right through the heart
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

The Russian commander spurred thither in haste,
To seek for his favorite Hussar.
Lo, pierced through the snoot from the fatal chabook,
Lay Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

The sultan rode up the disturbance to quell,
Or to give to the victor a cheer,
But he arrived just in time to take hasty farewell
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer.

Then Gotchikoff, Skabeloff, Menchikoff too,
Drove up in the Emperor's car,
But only in time to bid rapid adieu
To Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.

There lieth a stone where the Danube doth roll,
And on it in characters clear,
Is, "Stranger, remember to pray for the soul
Of Abdullah Boul Boul Ameer."

A Muscovite maiden her sad vigil keeps
In her home by the cold northern star,
And the name that she murmurs so oft in her sleep,
Is Ivan Petrofsky Skevar.


A midi of it is at The Ballad of ISS (http://www.contemplator.com/folk3/ivan.html).