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When the Hussars had been driven back towards the Pimple

And drifting sand and smoke were having their effect � were they ever �

Before the gunner boys � good on ya � up on Mosque ridge

Took out all the Italian Artillery on that Pimple

And the Australians came up from Benghazi

It was the Rifle Brigade, the Rifle Brigade

With their famous one-armed colonel

That held the line to the south and so managed the end of the entire Italian

10th army at Beda Fomm

The Rifle Brigade, with Little Bill Crib as one of the enlisted men

Now, everyone should know � but they don’t �

About that bus-Fiat full of Italian damsels

Patting on yet more mascara and foundationing up their noses

With their own private priest, forgiving them their lack of decent stockings

and scent

O’Conner sent them on their way, needless to say

But what if he had given them to Little Bill Crib

A real enterpriser

With not half-bad contacts (though nobody knew it)

But fully nefarious intentions

I’ll take them back to Cairo at midnight St Valentine’s day;

Had the local greek make me up a sign that said in arabic style english:

Big Bill Crib and his Ladies of the Desert

Open for business Every Day of the week except when I say that we ain’t

And the customers came and the customers went (and I started noticing something

off)

I begrudged each not-at-all a gentleman for having his crack at my winter woman

in question

And so sought to raise the standards for the clientele

But that didn’t manage to rest my head

So that night I looked at myself in the shaving mirror scornfully and told

myself the truth

Big Bill Crib’s fallen in love with his Ladies of the Desert

Every single one of them

Those February desert dust 40 degree Winter Women were the ruin of me

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