Subject: ADD: Ptarmigan and Groaty Dick (Bill Caddick)
From:
cnd
Date: 16 Feb 22 - 02:35 PM
Topic56 got back to me and shared the following. I've edited it slightly to take out a few personal details and clean up the formatting.
Sorry for slight delay your request came as I was in the middle of a project. I got the words from Bill Caddick. I had tried to copy it from the Lp but a few words I could not get fro Bill’s accent. He said he had not learned it (wrote it but did not know it) and he had them written out. He said he would look for the words as he had not done it for years. He did send them to me, saying he had not been able to find them but had copied them down from the Lp, what a gent. I do not use scripts and do everything from memory. However as reading from a sheet is how Bill did it I decided I would do it the same way, as as Bill did it that way it was the traditional way to do it.
Bill was an artist who I had booked many times. For me one of the number one songwriters and performers. Saw him do his last gig at Pete Coe’s club and he did a storming night and went out on a high. It was not that long after he passed away. I have most of his recordings, pity he did not do more he did say he had enough for another CD.
Ptarmigan and Groaty Dick
(Bill Caddick)
When the nobs come down to breakfast they’d starvin’ through and through.
It teks ‘em several hours, but they’ve nothin’ else to do.
There’s scones or toast and honey, special jams and marmalades.
The eggs poached or scrambled, but always freshly laid.
There’s fruit juice, tea or coffee, milk and cream and porridge,
There’s haddock and all sorts of fish, or plover, snipe or partridge.
There’s bloaters and there’s bacon there’s sausages and hams,
All laid out on a sideboard and warmed by spirit lamps.
There’s pressed beef, cold roast pheasant, there’s youngest and galantines,
There’s peaches and there’s melons , raspberries and nectarines.
There’s chicken, chops or cutlets, the kidneys have been devilled,
And never a soul stops swallowing ‘til the piles of. Food am levelled.
But they wouldn't think they day began without a bit of p-tarmigan.
But when i see what’s served to me, it almost meks me sick.,
There’s porridge, bread and butter and yesterday’s Groaty dick.
When they’ve had their simple breakfast, there’s not much to be done.
But lounge around ‘til luncheon, serve red prompt at half past one.
They’ll start with soup or salmon or maybe caviar
Then perhaps a dish of quail, we stuffed with some foil gras,
Garnished with grapes or mushrooms or oysters and obviously prawns
Croquettes, tomatoes and truffles from Italy
They’ll follow this venison or shoulder of lamb from Wales
Or sometimes neck of mutton or even boiled ox tails
There’s chicken perhaps woodcock, roasts of different kinds,
And each diner will try to se nothing’s left behind.
And certainly some gentleman will want to try the p-tarmigan.
But when I see what’s served to me, it almost meks me sick,
There’s bread and dripping, old pig’s pudding and yesterday’s Groaty dick.
When King Edward goes out shooting, he takes along a snack
To get him through the afternoon ‘til it’s time to amble back.
The soup is mulligatawny, followed by a ragout
There’s biscuits and there’s pastry and plenty of fresh fruit too.
Roast chicken and roast pheasant and even some jugged hare,
juicy apple dumplings oh and compote of pear,
Now to a nob this kind of food is far too plain to contemplate
So for dinner they’d have served up something more elaborate
But before they took up arms again, they had a bit of p-tarmigan
But in the afternoon you have spent at home and a friend should drop by
You’d call for a cup of cocoa and a slice of apple pie
Perhaps some toast or brioche and all the scones that cook could make
Jams, a choice of sandwiches and several kinds of sticky cake
But if the King should call, then lobster salad it definitely must be,
For he insists on lobster salad each afternoon for tea.
But the king is sure to call again if you give him lots of p-tarmigan.
But when I see what’s served to me, it almost meks me sick
There’s toast and dripping, suet pudding and yesterdays Groaty dick.
It’s dinner at eight-thirty and every gentle man’s wish
To have it served up before him his very favourite dish
Now the King loves caviar but thinks ortolans are fine
(They’re Egyptian birds in brandy wit asparagus and wine)
But best of all is snipe, stuffed with foie gras and forcemeat
Grilled up in a pigs caul with truffles and madeira sweet
The Queen she thinks that crayfish cooked in chablis are so good
But on Sundays the Royal Household has roast beef and Yorkshire pud
It’s pigeon pie for Ascot, whitebait for Derby day
And deer pudding four times every week when they’re up Balmoral way
Kaiser Wilhelm’s favourite food brings tears to my eyes
There’s woodcock in a pheasant in a chicken in a turkey, and all in a raised pie.
But each one has a favourite, be it curry or a simple roast.
But the Rothschild’s have a dish that’s made from nine hen lobster roes.
If at mid night they’re still peckish and they feel a little frail,
There’s sandwiches or chicken leg, grilled oysters and some quail
And that’s all there is ‘til morning and there’s nothing they can do
So when the nobs come down to breakfast they’d starvin’ through and through
Unless they form a crafty plan to tek to bed some p-tarmigan.
But when I see what’s served to me, it almost meks me sick
There’s nothing but a steaming pile of yesterday’s Groaty dick.
Groaty Dick is a traditional dish from the Black Country, made from soaked groats, beef, leeks, onions and beef stock and baked together.
Ptarmigan a plump game bird slightly larger than a grey partridge. Common name of a bird, species to the Latinos family for all you ornithologists Pronounced Tar M-Igaan
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