Old Sam's Christmas Pudding
Composer(s): Marriott Edgar
Performer(s): Stanley Holloway



It was Christmas Day in the trenches
In Spain in Penninsular War
And Sam Small were cleaning his musket
A thing as he'd ne're done before

They'd had 'em inspected that morning
And Sam had got into disgrace
For when sergeant had looked down the barrel
A sparrow flew out in his face

The sergeant reported the matter
To Lieutenant Bird then and there
Said Lieutenant 'How very disgusting'
The Duke must be told of this 'ere'

The Duke were upset when he heard
He said, 'I'm astonished, I am
I must make a most drastic example
There'll be no Christmas pudding for Sam'

When Sam were informed of his sentence
Surprise, rooted him to the spot
'Twas much worse than he had expected
He though as he'd only be shot

And so he sat cleaning his musket
And polishing barrel and butt
While the pudding his mother had sent him
Lay there in the mud at his foot

Now the centre that Sam's lot were holding
Ran around a place called Badajoz
Where the Spaniards had put up a bastion
And ooh...! what a bastion it was

They pounded away all the morning
With canister, grape shot and ball
But the face of the bastion defied them
They made no impression at all

They started again after dinner
Bombarding as hard as they could
And the Duke brought his own private cannon
But that weren't a ha'pence o' good

The Duke said, 'Sam, put down thy musket
And help me lay this gun true'
Sam answered, 'You'd best ask your favours
From them as you give pudding to'

The Duke looked at Sam so reproachful
'And don't take it that way,' said he
'Us Generals have got to be ruthless
It hurts me more than it did thee'

Sam sniffed at these words kind of sceptic
Then looked down the Duke's private gun
And said 'We'd best put in two charges
We'll never bust bastion with one'

He tipped cannon ball out of muzzle
He took out the wadding and all
He filled barrel chock full of powder
Then picked up and replaced the ball

He took a good aim at the bastion
Then said 'Right-o, Duke, let her fly'
The cannon nigh jumped off her trunnions
And up went the bastion, sky high

The Duke, he weren't 'alf elated
He danced around trench full of glee
And said, 'Sam, for this gallant action
You can hot up your pudding for tea'

Sam looked 'round to pick up his pudding
But it wasn't there, nowhere about
In the place where he thought he had left it
Lay the cannon ball he'd just tipped out

Sam saw in a flash what 'ad happened
By an unprecedented mishap
The pudding his mother had sent him
Had blown Badajoz off map

That's why fuisilliers wear to this moment
A badge which they think's a grenade
But they're wrong... it's a brass reproduction
Of the pudding Sam's mother once made