Sault Antlers' Song Book

50 • MR. MOSES RI TURL AYE AY
The policeman walked out oh so proud on his beat
When a vision came to him of stripes on his sleeve
Promotion he whispered I’ll try for today
So come with me Mr. Ri Turl Aye Ay
Come tell me your name says the limb of the law
To the little fat man selling wares on the straw.
What’s that sir me name sir why ‘tis there on display
And it’s Moses Ri Turl Aye Lurla Aye Ay.
Now the trial came on and it lasted two weeks
One judge says was German another ‘twas Greek
Prove your Irish said the policeman beyond that say nay
He insisted it’s Moses Ri Turl Aye Ay.
Now the prisoner stepped up there as stiff as a crutch
Are you Irish or English or German or Dutch?
I’m a Jew sir I’m a Jew sir that came over to stay
And me name’s Mr. Moses Ri Turl Aye Ay.
We’re two of a kind say the judge to the Jew,
You’re a cousin of Briscoe and I am one too.
This numbskull has blundered and for it will pay,
Well sir that’s right says Moses Ri Turl Aye Ay.
There’s a garbage collector that works down our street
He once was a policeman the pride of his beat
And he moans all the night and he groans all the day
Singing Moses Ri Turl Aye Lurla Aye Ay.
51 • COURTIN’ IN THE KITCHEN
Come single belle and beau unto me pay attention.
Don’t ever fall in love, for it’s the devil’s own invention
For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitching
Miss Henrietta Bell out of Captain Kelly’s kitchen.
With me turl lurl la and me turl lurl lady. With me turl lurl la tour a lour a lady.
At the age of seventeen I was apprenticed to a grocer
Not far from Stephen’s Green where Miss Henry used to go sir
Her manners were sublime faith she set me heart to twitching
And she invited me to a hooley in the kitchen.
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1 • THE BASTARD KING OF ENGLAND
The minstrels sing of an English king of many long years ago.
Who ruled his land with an iron hand but his morals were weak and low.
His only outer garment was a dirty yellow shirt
With which he tried to hide his hide, but he could not hide the dirt.
He loved to hunt the royal stag amongst his royal wood,
But more than this, he loves the bliss, of pulling his royal pud.
He was dirty, and lousy, and full of fleas.
And he had his women by two’s and three’s.
God bless the Bastard King of England.
Now the Queen of Spain was an amorous dame, a mischievous wench was she.
She longed to play in a loving way with the King across the sea.
So she sent a royal message with the royal messenger.
To invite the King to bring his ding, and spend a week with her.
When this news, by chance, reached Phillip of France, he swore to his royal court,
The Queen prefers me rival, for me dork is rather short.
So he sent the Count of Zippity Zap, to slip the Queen a dose of clap
And pass it on to the Bastard King of England.
When the word of this foul and dastardly deed reached fair Windsor Hall,
The King swore by the royal whore, he’d have that Frenchman’s balls.
So he offered half his kingdom, and a piece of Queen Hortence
To any loyal Briton who would nut the King of France.
So the loyal Duke of Suffolk shire, he straightaway rode to France.
He made a pass, and slipped the sash, off Phillip’s pajama pants.
And around his prong he tied a throng, and fastened it to his saddle strong
And dragged that Frenchman back to merry England.
When the King of England saw the sight, he shit all o’er the floor,
For during the ride, his rival’s pride had stretched a yard or more.
And all the maids of England, come down to London town
And shouted ‘round the battlements, “Piss on the British crown”
And the King of France usurped the throne, his scepter was the royal bone
With which he bitched the Bastard King of England.
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