You can hear this at YouTube:


SIMON THE BOOTLEGGER
As recorded by Mr. Flotsam & Mr Jetsam, 1929.

Oh, Mister Simon – Yes, sir.
Mister Simon of the USA – That’s me.
They say you’re a big man over there.
Quite right, young fellow; I’m a millionaire.
Mr Simon – Well, sir.
I’m a reporter on the Weekly Star. – You are?
I’d like to have a story we could run with a cut.
Why, stories are the only things I’ve nothing else but.
Then will you tell the Star
Exactly who you are?

Oh Simon the cellarer, he was my dad.
You’ve heard of him, no doubt.
I, if you please was his favorite lad
Till he finally threw me out.
I forget what the row was about.
I went to America over the sea.
No emigrant ever was poorer than me,
And today I’m worth more than a million and a half.
Do you wonder, young newspaper scribe, that I laugh?
Oh, ho, oh, ho! I’ve got more dough
Than Simon the cellarer ever could show.

Mister Simon – Yes, sir.
Mister Simon of the USA – Proceed.
So Simon the cellarer was your dad?
Yes, and I’m a cellarer too, my lad.
Mister Simon – Well, sir.
Are there cellarers in America now? – And how!
But I thought prohibition was still in force.
So it is, with the accent on the still, of course.
Then Simon the cellarer’s game
Is known by a different name.

I’m Simon the bootlegger, chief of a gang
Of daredevil rum-running thugs.
I can get all the illicit liquor you want,,
And dodging the federal tugs
I take all kinds of money from mugs.
I control all the speakeasies I met a boy(?),
Too dangerous a guy for the cops to annoy.
When I die, they’ll be passing my coffin for hours,
And ten thousand dollars won’t purchase the flowers.
Oh, ho, oh, ho! I’m a likely knave
To make Simon the cellarer turn in his grave.

Oh, ho, oh, ho! But just the same
I’d rather have Simon the cellarer’s game,
For in England we still have a liberty which
Is free from conscience stains,
And our brewers and publicans when they get rich,
Don’t do so on ill-gotten gains.
They don’t have to have criminal brains.
Oh, ho, oh, ho! We don’t have to go
To the cellar below for a spot, you know.
Oh, ho, oh, ho! We chuckle and crow
Like Simon the cellarer long ago.