Nice Schantieman. Or alternatively:

Cook 'em all, cook 'em all,
Now the cookies have answered the call.
Cook all the sergeants and the officers too,
And cook all their privates to serve in a stew.
They say that we're headed away to the East
Though we'd much sooner go down the pub,
There's some bugger called Bush says it's time for a push,
Though we'd rather be dishing up grub.

Here we go, cheerio,
You might think we are marching too slow,
But the British divisions need ample provisions,
To be fit for to fight with the foe,
I hear that the tanks that we got from the Yanks
Are inclined to get stuck in the sand,
But with bangers and mash we will cut quite a dash,
So they need us to give them a hand.

Cook em all, cook em all,
The long and the short and the tall,
They're cooking up something and it seems it's a war,
So it's time to get stuck in, like always before.
But are we downhearted or are we distressed?
Why no, we'll be having a ball,
For cookie is always at home in a mess.
So cheer up me lads, cook 'em all.