Lyrics:

Colonel Brown, he's retired, and old
He's still looking for his pot, of gold
His house was big but now it's sold
His army coat keeps out the cold
Oh old
Oh oh oh

His dear wife departed
In May last year
The poor fellows broken-hearted
From his moustache hang the tears,
Now all his life is souvenirs
Oh

Colonel Brown, isn't on, his feet
A [worn book ?) on his knees, a fire, some sleep
The doctor looked at him to find
There's nothing physical
It's in, his mind
Ah ah ah

He's only pleasure now is,
A little photograph,
Of his army wedding
Those medals on his uniform,
Now [buy/by] the wood to keep him warm
Ah

And we take him out on Sunday
To the church down in the lane
Colonel Brown sits in his wheelchair
And he tries to pray again