LYRICS:

Me name Mary Seacole, famous nurse to de Crimean boys
No, me not Florence Nightingale, dat mix up, me annoys.
Me learn me skills in Jamaica where me mother nursed de sick
And I tink it my destiny, child, to be a war medic.

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If you’re coughing you should have a drink with it
If your diet’s poor you should really tink upon it
If it’s cholera, re-hydration’s best for it
If it’s fever retter take some rest for it.

Wha-oh-oh, wha-oh-oh, wha-oh-oh-oh.

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When Crimean War broke out, me apply for Florence’s crew
She turn me down because me black, yep, weird I know but true.*

History still says me name 'cos me not one to moan
Me ask me friend Thomas Day for help and set off on my own.

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If you need it put a mustard plaster on it
If you’re bleeding shouldn’t be disaster for it

If your leg broke, going to need a plaster on it
If you’re constipated take oil of castor for it.

Wha-oh-oh, wha-oh-oh, wha-oh-oh-oh.

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Once here, in Crimea, me became a pioneer
Me carpenters engineered a hotel at the new frontier.

Set up on the front line in 1855
Independent woman saving soldiers lives -

Welcome to the British Hotel.

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Me boarding house became de haunt of de great and good
Though it wasn’t glamorous, it was built of old bits of wood.

Supplied the troops with kits and clothes, served both de rich and poor
Me nursed right upon de battlefield while Florence worked far from de war.

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I’m a nursing lady put a splint on it
Me see a wounded man better sprint to it

Earned fame from de war and my stint in it
But the Crimean shame is me a skint from it.

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When de war was done, me never have a dime
Despite the work me do, bankruptcy was mine.

I’m a fierce lady never fazed by it
Wrote a book and earned funds raised by it.

Me hotel men owed their lives to it
Going down in history that’s my prize for it.