I was Lord Kitchener's valet We were ever so pally I was always there to press his suits and clean his boots and in return, as everybody knows, He gave me all his old clothes
I was Lord Kitchener's valet We used to share the same chalet He would often say that when he died that he'd provide for me and you can see just what I got: his winter woolies and the lot
Oh, Lord Kitchener what a to do? Everyone is wearing clothes that once belonged to you If you were alive today, I'm sure you would explode if you took a stroll down the Portebello road
I was Lord Kitchener's valet Right from Kandahar to Calais I was by his side to wipe his shoes and serve his booze I knew my loyalty would be repaid I'm in the second hand trade
Oh, Lord Kitchener what a to do? Everyone is wearing clothes that once belonged to you I know that you've forgiven me if I tell you on my knees Your wardrobe is a victim of the economic squeeze