Campfire Songs

We are the 17th

We are the 17th, St. Begnets Troop from Dalkey,
We often go on hikes, ’cause we’re very fond of walking
We’re famous far and wide, from Texas to Tipp’rary,
And everywhere we go we sing songs both loud and cheery,

With your toor-a-loor-a-lay,
Toor-a-loor-a-laddie,
Toor-a-loor-a-lay,
We’re the scouts from Dalkey

And now that we’re all here, around this campfire burning,
We hope that you’re like us, and that this is what you’re yearning,

We hope that you’ll agree, that North, South, East or West,
No matter where we go, that scouting is the best!

You can tell a Scout

You can tell a scout from the 17th
You can tell them by their walk
You can tell a scout from the 17th
You can tell them by their talk
You can tell a scout from the 17th
By their appetite and such
You can tell a scout from the 17th
But you can not tell them much!

From the hills of Dalkey town,
To the bay of Killiney,
You can hear the scouts of the 17th
You can hear us loud and clear
You can hear a scout from the 17th
And you’ll always know we’re here!

The Quartermaster's Store

There were ants, ants, in little tartan pants
In the store, in the store,
There were ants, ants, in little tartan pants
In the quartermaster’s store

Refrain:
My eyes are dim, I cannot see,
I left my specs in the WC,
I left my specs in the the WC

There were turtles, turtles, wearing rubber girdles
In the store, in the store…

Rats… as big as alley cats.
Cheese… with shocking dirty knees.
Beans… as big as submarines.
Mine… running through the rice.
Snakes… as big as garden rakes.
Gravy… enough to float the navy.
Cakes… that give us tummy aches.
Apes… eating all the grapes.
Bear… with curlers in it’s hair.
Coke… enough to make you choke.