An Apres Morris Song Archive - The Morris Ring

It's a Great Big Shame (Edgar Bateman)
I've lost my pal, 'e's the best in all the tahn,
But don't you fink 'im dead, beco's 'e ain't.
But since 'e's wed 'e 'as 'ad ter 'nuckle dahn.
It's e-nuf-ter wax the temper of a saint!
'e's a brewers dray-man, wiv a leg o' mutton fist,
An' as strong as a bullick or an 'orse -
Yet in 'er 'ands 'e's like a little kid -
Oh! I wish as I could get 'im a divorce.
It's a great big shame, an' if she belong'd ter me
I'd let 'er know who's who.
Naggin at a feller wot is six foot free,
And her not four foot two!
Oh! they 'adn't been married not a month nor more,
When underneath her fumb goes Jim -
Isn't it a pity as the likes ov 'er
Should put upon the likes ov 'im?
Now Jim was class - 'e could sing a decent song,
And at scrappin' 'e 'ad won some great renown;
It took two coppers for to make 'im move along,
And annuver six to 'old the feller dahn.
But today when I axes would 'e come an' 'ave some beer,
To the door-step on tip toe 'e arrives;
"I dare-n't," says 'e - "Don't shout, 'cos sh'll 'ear -
I've got ter clean the winders an' the knives."
On a Sunday morn, wiv a dozen pals or more,
'e'd play at pitch an' toss along the Lea;
But now she bullies 'im a scrubbin 'o the floor -
Such a change, - well I never did see.
Wiv apron on 'im, I twigged 'im on 'is knees -
A rubbin' up the old 'arf stone;
Wot wiv emptyin' the ashes and a shellin' of the peas,
I'm blowed if 'e can call 'is self 'is own!
It's the Syme the 'Ole World Over (Billy Bennet 1930)
It's the syme the 'ole world over
It's the poor wot gets the blyme;
It`s the rich wot gets the pleasures,
Ain't it all a bleedin' shyme!
She was just a farmer's daughter
Pure, unsullied was 'er nyme
When a squire came a-courting
And the poor girl lorst 'er nyme!
So she made her way to London
For to hide er grief and shyme
There she met another squire,
And she she lorst 'er nyme again.
See her on the bridge at midnight
Victim of a blighted troth
There`s a cry a splash, good `eavens
What is she a doing of?
Then they dragged her from the river
Water from her clothes they rang
And they thought that she was drownded
But the corpse got up and sang
Jack, the Carter Lad (traditional)
My name is Jack, the carter lad
A jolly cock am I.
I always am contented
Be the weather wet or dry.
I crack me fingers at the snow
And whistle at the rain,
And I've braved the storm for many a day
And can do so again.
cho: So it's crack, crack, goes me whip
I whistle and I sing.
I sit upon me wagon
I'm as happy as a king.
My horse is always willing
And for me, I'm never sad,
There's none can lead a jollier life
Nor Jack, the carter lad.
My father was a carrier
Many years e'er I was born;
He used to rise at daybreak
And go his round each morn.
He would often take me with him
Especially in the spring.
When I loved to sit upon the cart
And hear me father sing:
It's now the girls all smile on me
As I go driving past,
The horse is such a beauty
As we jog along so fast.
We've traveled many a weary miles
But happy days we've had;
And there's none can use a horse more kind
Nor Jack, the carter lad.
Now friends, I bid you all: Adieu
'Tis time I was away.
I know my horse will weary
If I much longer stay.
To see your smiling faces here
It makes me feel quite glad
And I know you'll grant your kind applause
To Jack, the carter lad.
46
Jenny Wren Bride (trad. tune:My Bonnie Lies Over…)
I've just come away from the wedding,
Oh Lord I could laugh till I cried.
I'll never forget the relations I met
When I married my Jenny Wren bride.
Married, married, I married my Jenny Wren bri-iide,
Married, married, I married my Jenny Wren bride.
Her father he works in the dockyard,
Her brother he owns a Marine Store,
And as for their habits, well talk about rabbits
They've got half the dockyard ashore.