Words: Bob Asprin, Anne Passovoy, Murray Porath
Music: "The Irish Washerwoman"

 My uniform's green and my trappings are black,
 My distant ancestors tied Rome in a sack.
 I'm not regulation. I don't even try.
 I'm a pain in the ass of the standard Dorsai.
 I'm a practical joker. I love dirty tricks.
 I make deadly weapons from feathers and sticks.
 I will honor a contract and stand by a friend,
 But right about there is where my honor ends.
 When we go into battle our orders are vague,
 Which the enemy knows, and they hate us like plague.
 Cause there's just no predicting the things we may do,
 When we're all feeling prankish on Tullamore Dew     (pause to drink)
 On a forested continent we came to fight,
 And found that our foe had dug in for the night.
 Our Force Leader mentioned they might not like damp,
 So we shanghaied a river and flooded their camp.
 When we drowned out their campsite they raised quite a fuss,
 And wished to debate such ill conduct with us.
 The dummies decided, 'twas simple and swift,
 To float up the river we'd flooded them with.
 So we had seven days to arrange them some fun,
 While the enemies floated supplies and their guns.
 They lost all their barges, and half of their men,
 On some nice rocky sandbars we built just for them.
 Now, within our own households we're calm and polite.
 It's always considered ill-mannered to fight,
 For an argument started must go to its end ~
 It's a hell of a waste of your family and friends.
 Our unorthodox tactics have won us our fame,
 And the enemy froths at the sound of our name.
 It isn't the battle, it isn't the fight,
 It the way that we laugh on our way out of sight.
 Now, the Cetans can drink ya half under the table.
 The miners of Colby drink all that they're able.
 The Terrans can drink half a battleship dry,
 But none can stand up to a single Dorsai.
 To a Dorsai whose thirst is as large as the stars,
 'Twas the Dorsai who drank up the oceans of Mars,
 And each of the crew has his favorite brew,
 Be it vodka, or saki, or Tullamore Dew.     (pause to drink)
 If you cross the Dorsai best be ready to lam it.
 Be sure not to mess with the dread Commandammit.
 He'll strike in the time that it takes you to cough.
 The next thing you know is, your head's coming off.
 If you cross the Dorsai you are sure to regret it.
 Whatever your plans are they're bound to upset it.
 There's two types of warnings you'll get from this lot.
 One when they're smiling, and one when they're not.

Material copyrighted © to the author - Brought to you by the Dorsai Irregulars []