Subject: Lyr Add: THE OLD DUN COW
From:
Graham_Coker@msn.com
Date: 23 Dec 96 - 09:40 PM
Dwight
I think it is the Old DUN Cow (Dun - a brownish red colour)
I would be interested in hearing from you - where do you sing?
Herewith the words that I know. They were learnt by me from the singing of Joe Latter in Carmarthen in 1974 (first 2 verses below only - I found the 3rd and 4th in a music hall songbook). I took to singing it only after I left Carmarthen. I have heard the chorus sung slightly differently (And there was Brown, upside down...) - just change the emphasis on the "Brown" and see which you prefer.
I usually sing the chorus after each 8 lines (not 16 as below) since people like singing it and I have never sung verses 3 & 4 (since I learnt it from Joe) Yes I know v4 only has 12 lines - who knows with these old songs
Graham Coker - Baltimore USA
(British Expat)
THE OLD DUN COW
Some pals and I at the local pub were playing dominoes one night,
When all of a sudden, in the pot man rushed. His face all white with fright.
"What's up" said Brown. "Have you seen your aunt? Have you seen your Aunt Maria?"
"Oh, me Aunt Maria be blowed," said he. "The bleedin' pub's on fire."
"On fire!" said Brown. "What a bit of luck! What a bit of luck!" said he.
"We'll down to the cellar. If the fire's not there, we'll have a gay old spree."
So we all went down with good old Brown, for beer we could not miss,
And we hadn't been there ten minutes nor more till we were all like this:
CHORUS: There was Brown, Brown, upside down, mopping up the whisky from the floor.
"Booze, booze!" the firemen cried as they came knocking at the door.
"Don't let 'em in 'til it's all mopped up," Someone shouted, "Macintyre."
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk when the Old Dun Cow caught fire.
Old Johnson walked over to the port-wine butt and gave it just a few hard knocks,
Started taking his off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks.
"Hold on," says Brown. "If you want to wash your feet, we've got some poor ale here.
Don't dip your trotters in the port-wine butt while we've got some old stale beer."
Oh! Just about then with a hell of a crash. Half the bloody roof gave way.
We were drowned by the firemen's hose but we were still OK
'Cause we got some sacks and some old tin tacks and nailed ourselves inside,
And we were drinking very old Scotch till we were bleary eyed.
We got so drunk that we did not know the blooming cellar had caught fire.
Poor old Jones had the DT's bad and wanted to retire.
"There's Old Nick," said another poor chap, "and he's poking up the blooming fire."
"That's no bogey. It's a fireman, Tom, at least," said Macintyre.
"Let's get out," said a blind-eyed boy. "It's getting rather hot down here."
"Don't be a fool," said a boozy bloke. "We haven't drunk the beer."
So we filled our hats and we drank like cats 'midst the flames and smoke,
I had to take my trousers off. I thought that I should croak.
At last the firemen got inside and found us all dead drunk,
But like true heroes, there they stood. They did not do a bunk.
They saw the booze upon the floor and gave a sudden yell.
They took their helmets off and then upon their knees they fell.
"At last! At last!" the firemen cried. "At last we know the news."
"Come on, come on," us lads all cried. "Come on and have a booze."
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sj
