Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Stretcher them in for Surgeon Tim
Stack 'em high lest they should die
Before he lets scalpel fly
Freshly wiped with a tear from his eye
From shell-shocked boys to mangled men
He'll try & hack them back to health again
I've seen him do it with my own eyes
Well, the one that he left, a pleasant surprise
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
So scrub them clean for Poor Surgeon Tim
Rinse off the filth then whisper a hymn
For those poor souls who go under his knife
Are almost certain to lose their young life
Judge not the swig of ether from the tin
When no one's around cos he's all out of gin
Don't judge a man who's lot is so grim
That he goes by the name of Poor Surgeon Tim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
I once heard a sapper whose tag named him Joe
Cry for his mother before they sent him below
Despatched with benevolence by Poor Surgeon Tim
Who knew the boy's chances were far less than slim
As the mask went over his face
I mouthed a silent prayer for the lost human race
And then as Poor Tim threw open the valve
I cried for a world that no peace could salve
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very, very, very, very, very........grim.
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Stretcher them in for Surgeon Tim
Stack 'em high lest they should die
Before he lets scalpel fly
Freshly wiped with a tear from his eye
From shell-shocked boys to mangled men
He'll try & hack them back to health again
I've seen him do it with my own eyes
Well, the one that he left, a pleasant surprise
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
So scrub them clean for Poor Surgeon Tim
Rinse off the filth then whisper a hymn
For those poor souls who go under his knife
Are almost certain to lose their young life
Judge not the swig of ether from the tin
When no one's around cos he's all out of gin
Don't judge a man who's lot is so grim
That he goes by the name of Poor Surgeon Tim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
I once heard a sapper whose tag named him Joe
Cry for his mother before they sent him below
Despatched with benevolence by Poor Surgeon Tim
Who knew the boy's chances were far less than slim
As the mask went over his face
I mouthed a silent prayer for the lost human race
And then as Poor Tim threw open the valve
I cried for a world that no peace could salve
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor, poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very grim
Poor Surgeon Tim
His lot is very, very, very, very, very........grim.
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