The Grand old Duke of York he had ten thousand men
He marched them up to the top of the hill
And he marched them down again.
When they were up, they were up
And when they were down, they were down
And when they were only halfway up
They were neither up nor down. 

The men were really beat - could hardly walk

but orders had arrived, the Duke of York

insisted that they climb the bloody hill

ten thousand soldiers gave him looks that kill.

The summit reached, they all sat down to rest

but then stood up again - the Duke's request

the word went out and men begin to frown

the bastard wanted them to march back down!

The half-way point was reached - they called a halt

all terribly confused, the Grand Duke's fault

if up was down then what was that below?

not one of them was sure which way to go.

They stayed there in that open, half-way spot
the enemy turned up - and killed the lot.