I currently sing:

THE OLD DUN COW   A music hall song written by Harry Wincott in 1893.
A version is in the Copper Family Song Book

This version owes much to the singing of Barney Wood, one of the founder members of both the Herga Folk Club, Harrow, and the Pumphouse Folk Club, Watford.

Some friends and I in a public house
Were playing dominoes one night
When into the room a fireman came,
His face all chalky white.
"What's up?" says Brown, "Have you seen a ghost?
Have you seen your Aunt Maria?"
"Oh my Aunt Maria be buggered," says he,
"The bleeding pub's on fire!"

"Well," says Brown, "What a bit of luck,
Everybody follow me.
It's down to the cellar if the fire's not there
We'll have a right old spree."
So we all went down with good old Brown
And the booze we had not missed
And we hadn't been there ten minutes nor more
Till we was all half drunk.

Chorus
Oh, there was Brown, up side down,
Mopping up the whisky on the floor.
"Booze, booze!" the firemen cried
As they come a-knockin' at the door. (Knock knock)
Well don't let em in till it's all mopped up;
Somebody shouted, "McIntyre!" (Shouts of McIntire!)
And we all got blue blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

Then Smith he found the port wine tub
And gave it a few hard knocks. (Knock knock)
He started taking off his pantaloons,
Likewise his shoes and socks.
"Oh no," says Brown, "You can't do that!
You can't do that there!
Don't be washing your trotters in the port wine tub
When we've got some John Smiths beer." (Goes down well in Yorkshire with Sam Smiths drinkers!).

(Course version - Don't squat yer arse in....)

Then there was a crash,
An almighty smash
Half the bloody roof gave way.
We was all drownded by the fireman's hose
Though we was all quite gay.
So we got some tacks and some old wet sacks
And we nailed ourselves inside,
And we drank all the beer and the whisky and the wine
Till we was bleary eyed

Additional Verses ( added by that Philistine Tony Haynes)

Then the vicar slid dahn the drayman's shute
He'd come in through the 'atch
He landed on his arse in the broken glass
Though he never got one scratch (?)
Then he stood and he stared and he pointed and he glared
And he cried you're all in sin
You've drunk all the beer and the whisky and the wine....
And you ain't left me no gin

When the fire died down we all climbed up
Into the old pub yard
Twas a sorry sight, The Cow was Dun
Her beams all blackened and charred
Then Brown he spied the old bar till
Inside he found a pound
"Come on says Brown, To The Rose and Crown
I'll stand us all a round!"

The folk process?