Before he could move, Stumpy gave him a wink
And slipped a cool hundred his way;
Ga ga I might be, doped I am not,
Now listen you prawn, I'll tell you a tale
That can make us a quid, but you've got to be in;
I won't fly with a punk, okay?
The Master Gunner narrowed his eyes,
He blinked just a second too long
So Stumpy knew the prawn had been bagged,
And settled back to explain.
Those dopes in the town, those earth-plodding plebs',
Do you think they know where it is, eh?