When Bonaparte commanded for his troops for to stand, He planted his cannons all over the land. Many hundreds of Prussians by his cannon did fly, And the poor sod on a milk float who was just passing by.
Broken hearted I'll wander, I'll have no milk now ever. For my Unigate Milkman, In the wars he was slain.
I last saw my milkman on a cold winter's day, He picked up my empties and he rambled away. He rambled to France and he's up in Heaven now, Well I can't understand it the depot's in Slough.
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If I were a Blackbird and had wings to fly, I'd fly to the spot where my milkman did die. For my milkman was good and my milkman was true, And I'd peck at all his bottle tops it's what blackbirds do.
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Little dove Sheila Mansfield and above us she flies And my memories of him flow, they flow pasteurised. The sadness is greater than this song can tell, He used to sell butter, eggs and yoghurt as well.
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Oh bony old Bony' you've raided his float, I can see a pint of gold top concealed in your coat. I will tear out my hair and cry "How can this be?" He's my Unigate milkman and I've just made him tea.