To be Carried in the Hand of Every Serviceman on
 Arrival in England From Aden.

 They've sent me to Blighty, I think as a test,
 To see if a change and a few years of rest
 Will bring back the brains that the sun has sent West.
 Of the airman who served in Aden.

 If I seem strange, if my actions seem queer,
 If I look like a wandering Jew, never fear,
 I'm perfectly harmless, that's why I came here,
 On demobilisation from Aden.

 If I should do things that seem senseless to you,
 You'll find there's a method in all things I do,
 I'm a marvel at catching Flies, Fever and Flu,
 They teach it out there in Aden.

 So if I look lost in some street,
 With cap in hand and kit-bag at feet,
 Just pity me kindly and say It's the heat,
 And the Barren Rocks of aden.

 And if in the Strand I'm found charging a bus,
 Or otherwise making a damnable fuss,
 If I'm squashed or smashed up, don't stand by and cuss,
 I'm only a madman from Aden.

 Take me up tenderly, treat me with care,
 I'm one of the crowd England sent over there
 To live in the rocks and say - "Beware"
 To Old England's enemies round Aden.

 There's no disease known that's not thrived there somewhere,
 The heat fries the blood, and the ink on your pen,
 And the dust covers hundred of England's white men,
 In that Damnable "Crater" at Aden.

 And if when I die I'm sent for a spell,
 To some place where stained souls are made clean and well,
 Pray to Peter in mercy to send me to Hell,
 But - not back to Aden