Willy 'ole Lad                          Keith Marsden


Oh Mary lass, what's this you're doing,
And what's this you're getting into?
We're respectable folk, and we're chapel,
So yon City lad will not do,
Your Mother was always a mender,
Your Grandma before her was too,
I started off low, but I'm head spinner now,
So a willy 'ole lad's not for you.

And I dare say he's young now, and handsome,
And his eyes are a fine smiling blue,
But he's clogs, and he'll always be clogs, Lass,
Yon willy 'ole lad's not for you.

He'll never have seat to his trousers,
He'll never have jam for your bread,
No five pound a week house like ours is,
But a back-to-back midden instead,
And one kid a year 'til you're thirty,
Then a worn out old woman, you'll rue,
That you shook your soft head,
When your old father said,
"Yon willy 'ole lad's not for you."

When he's forty and fat with the boozing,
And the women he's had turn away,
When his money on horses he's losing,
While you've still the rent man to pay,
When it's always your fault with your nagging,
When the beer makes him nasty and bad,
When you lie there and dread
That he'll want you in bed,
Will you still love your willy 'ole lad?

So if you want my consent to wed him lass
I fear you'll be wanting a while,
If it's him that you meet at the altar,
Then it won't be my arm down the aisle,
Just cherish your grace for a while lass,
And dream silly dreams while you can,
When you've spent all your youth,
You'll have long years for truth,
With your lad still a willy 'ole man.