[Verse]
Twas a bundle that was hanging in what's known as father's tent,
A bundle of striped material black and red,
And when I asked me mother, now, just what did it contain,
"It's your father's Bedouin uniform" she said,
After much persuasion, she let me try it on,
"In memory of your Gaddafi, son", she said,
And as I put the kaftan on, she was smiling through her veil,
As she wrapped the wee white turban round me head.

[Chorus]
It's just a wee white turban wrapped around his head,
Forty yards of good material there and more,
And an old kaftan that he stole in Marrakesh,
A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corps,
And an old curved sword in its sheath of camel hide,
A wavy dagger he used against the foe,
When it comes to blood and slaughter, the man that really matters,
Will wear the wee white turban of the PLO.

[Verse]
Twas the turban that me father wore, in the desert long ago,
When he left me mother's harem on the run,
Twas the turban that he wore when he stood by Nasser's side,
When he put the British Army on the run,
The Brits were flying aeroplanes and sas men by the score,
The Suez Canal was theirs they said,
Your da swam to the tanker, lit the gelignite and sank her,
And claimed the canal for Egypt then instead.

[Chorus]
It's just a wee white turban wrapped around his head,
Forty yards of good material there and more,
And an old kaftan that he stole in Marrakesh,
A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corps,
And an old curved sword in its sheath of camel hide,
A wavy dagger he used against the foe,
When it comes to blood and slaughter, the man that really matters,
Will wear the wee white turban of the PLO.

[Verse]
It was two miles from Damascus when he made the final stand,
Surrounded by Israelis, ten to one,
He lay in the sun there baking,
He knew there'd be no prisoners taken and the ammo for the AK almost done,
Then a big old plane from Knock Airport did arrive,
And taxied down the runway going slow,
Your da hijacked the Boeing, West Belfast was where he was going,
With the wee white turban of the PLO

[Chorus]
It's just a wee white turban wrapped around his head,
Forty yards of good material there and more,
And an old kaftan that he stole in Marrakesh,
A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corps,
And an old curved sword in its sheath of camel hide,
A wavy dagger he used against the foe,
When it comes to blood and slaughter, the man that really matters,
Will wear the wee white turban of the PLO.

[Verse]
Now, it’s 10 long years later and we live in West Belfast,
The things along the road were getting hard,
The boys were getting jumpy, the dumps were nearly empty,
And they came to ask me da to give a hand,
And a quick phone call and Gaddaffi said, “Ok,”,
A ton and a half of semtex have a go,
When you hear the mortars thumping and you see the paras jumping,
You can thank the wee white turban of the PLO.