The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #79209   Message #1433185
Posted By: John M.
12-Mar-05 - 02:49 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: 'Boy Meets Girl' a trad. bawdy song
Subject: Lyr Add: 'Boy Meets Girl' a trad. bawdy song
Hello everyone,

If you are easily offended, please STOP READING.   This thread is for mature audiences only.  Please don't post "dreadful song" or "worst song written" as you are not helping. 

Below is a traditional bawdy song titled:  Boy Meets Girl  (recording)


                Do you sing this song?  If so when/where did you learn it?

 

If this google search is to be an indicator, this song is rare.   Any help with this song is appreciated.

Yours,

John Mehlberg
john@mehlberg.com
~
My, mostly traditional, bawdy songs, toasts and recitations website: www.immortalia.com
~

BOY MEETS GIRL

Spoken: Honor you partners and jiggy, jig, jig.

Boy meets girl, he holds her hand,
Visions of a promised land,
Tender words, cling and kiss,
Crafty feel, heavenly bliss.

He nibble nipples, squeezes thighs,
Gets a beat and feels a rise,
Fly's agape, drawers rolled down,
Really starts to go to town.

Legs outspread, virgin lass,
Fanny froths like bottled Bass,
Love is great, Cupid stunt
Stupid feels, stupid runt. (?)

Now love's a jewel, pearls he's won,
Shoots his load, hell what's he done,
Comes the pay off, here's the rub --
Now she's in the pudding club.

A tubby tummy, weight she gains,
Prams and nappies, labor pain,
Realizes what he did,
Nagging misses and a screaming kid.

Well shot gun wedding, bridesmaids flap,
Love and cherish, all that crap,
Can't forsake those sexy habits,
Kept breeding kids like bleeding rabbits.

It's so important now to stay (?)
Got ten at home and one away.
Silky hole with the hair all round
Dug his grave in the stony ground

Sweats his balls off, works his stint;
All the same he's always spent
Only pleasure is evenings when
Mattress squeaks, she's off again,

He curses his marriage, starts to bicker (?)
Swears he'll choke the bloody vicar.
Work and worry take their toll
Whisk he's off, with the same old haul. (?)

A bit of love, flies agape
Got folds of hair, lots of dick (?)
Gets it in, its a lovely fit
Two experts in the shit.

As he draws his final breath.
He knows he shagged himself to death.
On his tombstone plainly lacquered
His epitaph is bloody knackered

Grab your partners by the gland
Showing her the promised land
Spin around, jump on top
In nine months time you get a crop.

Spoken: You get up on Sunday morning, go to church and pray for crop failure.  Miracles do happen.


Notes: This has been recorded once but issued a total of four times on various Australian record labels.  This song textually seems British but the singer on the recording seems American.