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User Name Thread Name Subject Posted
jacko@nz Lyr Req: Edinburgh songs (96* d) Lyr Add: SANDY BELL'S MAN and PUNTERS 28 Feb 03


The month it was June, the lilac smelt sweet
I was walking one morning through town
I met a young girl over Morningside way
And she cried as she hung her head down
I see by your scarf of the yellow and gold
An Edinburgh medic are you
Come sit beside me and hear my sad tale
It concerns a young medic I knew

      My father's name was Harry
      My mother' name was Anne
      Come sit beside me and hear my sad tale
      I've been wronged by a Sandy Bell's man

When I was sixteen I was spotless and clean
I had never tasted a drop
I met a young medic his name it was Derick
He took me into the grog shop
And there on the nips of the whisky and gin
I verily drank my fill
My father he shot himself over my shame
And my mother he likewise did kill

One evening in haste to my lover I raced
And these glad words I did say
My dearest next April or sometime next spring
An arrival is coming our way
The whites of his eyes opened wide with surprise
As the eyes of a young father will
And when I called round to his digs the next day
He had caught the first plane to Brazil

So come all you virgins of Edinburgh city
Altho' you be ever so few
Come sit beside me and hear my sad tale
It concerns a young medic I knew
Beware, be careful, before it's too late
Fatal is not yet the hour
And next time a medical glances your way
Be content with a hot and cold shower


    The starter fired his gun to commence the rollicking fun
    There was pushing and poking and pulling and punting   
    Great big guys groaning and grunting
    You've never seen anything quite so banal
    As the punters punting on the Union canal

There were two participant punts
Performing and pulling off stunts
But the guys in the boaties were little Don Quixotes
Standing in a punt, trying to confront
The others with a dunt, or a sneaky wee shunt

The first punt started so well,
shot along like a bat out of hell
But the guy at the back felt his grip go slack
And the poor old soul slipped down his pole
Landed in the drink and did an eskimo roll

The second punt bumped to the front
And the crew gave a jubilant grunt
But the captain to be blunt was a cretinous runt
And his boat mis-steered, it was weird how it veered
And everybody cheered when the bugger disappeared

And the silence of the setting was drowned
By the sound for miles around
And an unimpressed swan gave a cynical yawn
And the drakes and the ducks all agreed that punting sucks
And the rats and the voles ran back into their holes for some parecetamols

Enjoy, Jack

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