There is a house in Bucharest They call Muntenia And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy O Lord, I know, I was there. A week spent in the mountains Came down by cable car A lifetime spent in Bucharest In Planter's American Bar Now the only thing a squaddie needs Is his bergan and some cash And the only time he's half satisfied Is when he's deep in Romanian gash Got one foot on the platform The other's on the train I'm heading back to Bucharest In the hot Wallachian rain Now troopies, tell your soldiers Not to do as I have done To spend summer leave with the whores and the fleas In the baking Romanian sun