He knows ev'ry herb And he knows ev'ry tree, He'll smoke 'em or brew 'em Which ever you please. He's known from the Hudson To Niagara Falls, His name is Sir Richard, He's Lord Cock 'n Balls. Lord Cock 'n Balls, He is Lord Cock 'n Balls. When he cocks his rifle, Look out for his balls! Whatever he shoots at inevit'bly falls, Not tall but he's long, He is Lord Cock 'n Balls. He keeps us abreast Of whatever may be, Via best British courier (For short B.B.C.) He's sent many rebels Thru Death's gaping maw, So let's drink a toast To Lord Cock and his balls! Lord Cock 'n Balls, He is Lord Cock 'n Balls. When he cocks his rifle Look out for his balls. We raise up our cups As the enemy falls, A toast to King George And to Lord Cock 'n Balls. Should he catch a bullet 'Midst uncivil strife, We'll uncock his gun Send his balls to his wife. We'll wrap what remains In his rusty red tarp, Whilst he dances a jig With his heavenly harp. 'Cause he's Lord Cock 'n Balls, Yes, he's Lord Cock 'n Balls. When he cocks his rifle Look out for his balls. Should his gun go silent I'll answer its calls; With the help of Sir Richard, M'Lord Cock 'n Balls!