Two cavers they did caving go,
As cavers will through rain and snow,
Why they do it, I don't know,
They must be ruddy keen-o.

Chorus: Any joy? Bastard,
            Doing well? Ruddy hell,
            Way down, go down, very smelly down,
            Beneath the Priddy Green-o.
            To my lay down, down,
            To my low down, down,
            Stay down, slow down, very smelly down,
            Beneath the Priddy Green-o.

The farmer's wife doth early wake,
And rise before the dawn do break,
To feed the cows on cattle cake,
Till grass again grow green-o.

But Mister Maine, I greatly fear,
Must surely be distressed to hear,
That all his cows have caught diarrhoea,
The worst he's ever seen-o.

Now picture those two sons of toil,
Full fifty feet beneath the soil,
Sharply showered with Linseed Oil,
Their language was obscene-o.

So follow this advice of mine,
Observe the cattle as they dine,
And dose them up with kay-o-line,
Or wait until they've been-o.

 

Tune: The Keeper.
Author: George Weston.