FUNERAL PARTY
(As recorded by Martin Carthy on "Live in Whitby, 1984")

I got an invitation to go to a funeral
    but to my sad misfortune now the fellow didn't die.
The manager he said he was vexed at disappointing us
    but he apologised and might we let the thing go by?
To make up for disappointing us, he took us in and treated us.
    He bought pints of porter for a company of ten.
Until one fella questioned him, his money was he squandering,
    so we put the fella's eyelid into mourning there and then.

Now the owner of the beer shop, when he saw us all a-coming,
    he give orders to evict us, but of course we did refuse,
So he whistled up some loungers who were sitting in the corner,
    and for ten or fifteen minutes we were badly abused.
Then we left the beer shop and down the street did stagger,
    and a gang of corner boys started pelting us with mud.
We told them to go easy and they said that they were doing so,
    and so we turned on them and left them lying where they stood.

Now, the next that we met was a gang of Salvationers.
    They rifled all our pockets and they asked us were we saved?
And little Mick McGinty was invited to the station
    for inquiring of a policeman if his appetite was shaved.
To make up McGinty's bail we all took off our undershirts
    and down to the pawnshop we took the jolly lot.
We asked for ten and sixpence, the price to free McGinty
    but "He's had enough already" was the answer that we got.

So we got the ten and sixpence and went off to free McGinty,
    but the devil take the beer shop that met us on the way!
For we couldn't pass the corner without taking some refreshment,
    and we spent every penny of the fine we had to pay.
Then we bought a concertina for to make the high hilarity,
    though none of us could play, though we tried our best, and worst.
We knocked a lot of noise from it, if it was any benefit.
    We handled it so gentle that the bellows it did burst.

So we got some hot potatoes for to mend the concertina
    and then someone hit Maloney with the carcass of a cat.
He buttoned up his whiskers and began to read the Riot Act.
    He swore he'd put two heads upon the villain who did that.
Then Maloney hit McGinty and McGinty hit some other man,
    and everyone hit anyone to whom he owed a spite,
And the cripple McNamara who was sitting saying nothing
    got a kick that burst his eye for not indulging in the fight.

Now, the drinking it was in us and the sense was nearly out of us,
    as for a bit of rioting we quickly did prepare.
We battered one another till we weren't worth three ha'pence,
    and I'm sure there was a carpet on the floor of skin and hair.
We battered one another till the police separated us.
    They marched us off to jail with broken noses and black eyes.
They marched us off to jail, and for me it was a lesson
    for to never go to funerals until the fella dies.