"Big Cosgrove" is one of the better recent additions to the tradition of bawdy ballads come from a duo called His Worship and the Pig. It is a sad tale of a man who, though vertically challenged was compensated for this in other areas. The words follow:
This ballad was composed in a place called Abbey Holton,
But this one's not a Child Ballad. This one's an adult 'n.
Turn off your hi-fi and TV, likewise the cursed Nintendo.
I'll sing a song comprising mainly filth and innuendo.
Come and listen to a stirring tale of passion and of power.
There's only forty verses, so it scarcely lasts an hour.
Concerning great Lord Wildblood and his lovely Lady Jane,
And a man called Big Jack Cosgrove, of great renown and fame.
Now he wasn't called Big Cosgrove 'cos he had the strength of two.
He was only four foot eight in height and six stone six wet through.
Though small of frame, he held that name because reputedly
His bright brown sword, it wasn't all that hung down to his knee.
Now it came upon a Whitsuntide, a Sunday dour and dull.
Big Cosgrove he rode into town and he was on the pull.
And Lords and Ladies they came down from boudoir and from battle
To dance, romance and catch, perchance, a glimpse of Cosgrove's tackle.
Lord Donald and Lord Ingram came, Lord Wildblood and his missus.
Lord Lovell and Lord Bateman's wives were exchanging showbiz kisses,
When it seemed Big Cosgrove was delayed, or might not show at all.
The crowd all cried, "Ee, Jack, you're late," but that was premature.
Well, he burst into the party and he gave an awful cry,
For his armour bright was much too tight and pinched 'twixt groin and thigh.
And there was music on the stage and stains of stirring song.
Big Cosgrove strode, a tiny giant, through that milling throng.
Well, it fell out on a holiday, as it oft-times had before,
But he quickly put it away again and hoped nobody saw.
And he strode up to Lady Jane, said, "Lady, are you dancing?"
She said, "Kind Sir, if you're asking, then yea, verily, I'm dancing."
Well he took her by the lily-white hand with fingers long and small,
For the other one was short and fat, and not very nice at all.
And he clutched her to his breastplate 'til she chastised and implored,
"Your weapon does provoke me." He says, "Nay, lass, that's me sword."
He joined her in a quick quadrille, both vigourous and rough.
With lusty looks she struts her funky medieval stuff.
And breathlessly she whispers in the dance's dying seconds,
"Your sword doth still provoke me." He says, "Nay, lass, that's me weapon."
Now the hall was decked that eventide with horns and brazen trumpets,
But he hadn't gone for music, but to see the brazen strumpets.
And some went down in velveteen, and some went down in lace.
When Lady Jane went down, it put a smile on Cosgrove's face.
They arranged to meet up later in a secret lovers' tryst.
Well, Jane turns up a half-hour late, and Jack turns up half pissed.
At the height of passion, Lady Jane cries, "I hear someone coming!"
Said Jack, "It isn't me love. It must just be the plumbing."
But her husband bursts into the room, exuding might and main.
He says, "You've kissed my wedded wife, you cad, you knave, you swine."
Said Jack, "I will deny that charge in front of a solicitor.
In fact, about the only thing I haven't done is kissed her."
Up speaks the Lord: "I have two sword to cut through flesh and bone,
And I shall have the best of them, and you can get your own."
And the very first blow that Cosgrove struck just nicked Lord Wildblood's neck.
And the very first blow that Wildblood struck laid Cosgrove on the deck.
Jane pulled away from Wildblood, and she rushed to Cosgrove's side.
She placed her naked nubile form before his fading eyes.
Miraculous effects occurred, though not the ones desired.
He was laid down and bolt upright at the moment he expired.
So it came to pass Big Cosgrove, he went to his God unbidden.
Well, they bought a lovely coffin, but they couldn't get the lid on.
So they had the box extended and it made the strangest scene
'Cos it looked like they were burying a wooden submarine.
Now, Big Cosgrove he was buried in Ye Olde Robin Hood,
But the grave it wasn't deep enough the way it had been dug.
But they buried Cosgrove anyway, and rather than dig more,
They left him with his periscope protruding through the floor.
And people would trip over it when going to the bar.
They spilled their drinks and skinned their knees. They spat and cursed and swore.
"You can do yourself an injury on that," they would all say.
"Why don't you saw it off and throw the bloody thing away?"
But the landlord wouldn't do it, for he'd promised Lady Jane
That Cosgrove had a resting-place where'er he could remain.
And so he nailed a seat on top, the sentimental fool,
So when Lady Jane is in the mood,
You'll find her in Ye Robin Hood,
Still dressed in all her mourning lace
With a look of pleasure on her face,
Just sitting in her favourite place
On Big Jack Cosgrove's stool.
I have collected similar songs, but this one seems the most fitting for this thread.