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

[Chorus]
It's just a wee white turban he wrapped around his head,
Forty yards of good material there and more,
An old kaftan that he stole in Marrakesh,
A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corp,
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, sure the man that really matters,
Must 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 me father wore when he stood by Nasser's side,
When he put the British Army on the run,
He dived into the water and he swan that broad canal,
He rigged the tanker and climbed upon it's side,
And when he reached the middle it was there he made her scuttle,
And that was how me poor old father died.

[Chorus]
It's just a wee white turban he wrapped around his head,
Forty yards of good material there and more,
An old kaftan that he stole in Marrakesh,
A pair of boots belonging to the Camel Corp,
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, sure the man that really matters,
Must wear the wee white turban of the PLO.