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They’re not what you’d call regimental – well, not in a military way,
And likely as not they’d be other than what you’d expect in the army today.
Shiny boots and smart turnout – forget it! Shaggy haircuts are likely the norm,
Perfect strangers to blanco and bullsh*t, no way will these soldiers conform.
There’s not much that can be done with them, it’s best to just leave well alone
And let them adjourn in the hope they’ll return when the urge has died for them to roam.
It’s also a quite good idea when on exercise out in the field
To lock up the stores, and bolt all the doors and keep all the good kit concealed.
For these masters of improvisation will liberate what’s not secured,
With innocent faces and all signs and traces of larcenous action obscured.
They can be a pain in the rear end – independent and barely controlled,
But when things get bad, then everyone’s glad that they’re easily worth their weight in gold.
‘Cos when bogged down right in the action and prospects are not looking bright,
They’ll be there when they’re needed – no call goes unheeded, and stay and continue to fight
Till they’ve got the result that they strove for, succeeded again with a grin,
And with cheerful wave to another they’ve saved, they’re off on their travels again.
So all Reccy Mechs of the REME, it’s time to stand up, take a bow,
For without you, the army ain’t moving until you’re there, giving a tow;
And, rightly, you think you’re the chosen, for when they’re all stuck in a truck,
They’ll all give a cheer as you reappear, before again, slinging your hook!