BRINDLE VILLAGE POUND               

Dixon /Snape

Capo2

Am                                                            C                           
Oh my name is Joseph Gerrard Farm Labourer by trade
                   F                         C                           F            G          Am               
I’ve been working for the master Since me Father passed away
                                                                     C               
I have a wife and two young sons And another on the way
          F                         C                      F          G             Am   
How can I keep their bellies full on seven pence a day
                                                                         C            
I could slip some spuds inside my coat or fill my pockets deep
          F                           C                                    F          G               Am
With eggs from in the hen-house while the master takes his sleep

Chorus                                                          C
But carried on the evening breeze that whispers in my ear
            F                     C                     F                G         Am
Is the masters dire warning that makes me live in fear
F                                    C      
Poaching plundering pushing folk round
    F                                                            C             Am          G
If Constable Crawley catches you it’s certain you’ll go down
          Am                            F               G                            Am   
You’ll have to spend the weekend sleeping on the ground
F                                        C             A       G                        Am
Amongst the dregs and rotten eggs in Brindle Village Pound

My name is Peter Walmsley I tend the Masters game
He shoots them when they’re healthy I mend them when there lame
His influential friends come round to banquet on the stag
Whilst I am eating rabbit stew and my kids are dressed in rags
Now Christmas time approaches and the nights are drawing in
I’ll go and grab a pheasant cock to fill my roasting tin

Chorus

My name is William Brewer I’ve lived her all my days
I serve ale in the village pub to all who pass this way
The squires son is drunk again and pestering my wife
One of these days I’ll sort him out I swear upon my life
I think I’ll go outside a while wait for him to appear
I’ll show him what I think of him as I punch him on the ear

Chorus
Amongst dead cats and biting rats
And if you’re poor your there for sure
You’ve done the crime now do your time

The song can be heard here Brindle Village Pound

GD