BALD GENERAL COOTE

Bald General Coote that is my name
A drinking man of noble fame
With bottle and glass quite unsurpassed
But I've landed in the drink at last

CHO: I led my men with Courage bold
With Bullards Strong and Adnams Old
Napoleon Brandy and Navy Rum
But now at last to the dregs I have come

I sank them with Nelson as the rounds they flew
On the deck of the Victory he had a fair few
Some say 'twas blind courage that carried his downfall
Blind drunk is more like it as I recall

I drank at the bottle of Waterloo
A glorious victory for England too
But my only fight in that country so far
Was the fight I had to get to the bar

I fought for my country all at the Crimea
But the only crime 'ere was the price of the beer
The Light Brigade come all to grief
But we'd plenty of Brown for our relief

I was there when Lady Smith was relieved
When they brought her a drink a great sigh she did heave
The pints of beer came rolling in
And General Gordon he ordered a gin

But now my campaigs are all over I fear
My hand it do shake and my eye is not clear
And all on my stones these words you should fix
He died, dead drunk, aged twenty-six

THE RUSTY, COLD FARMER

I'm a rusty, cold farmer in a cottage well thatched
My rusty, cold cupboard is full
In my rusty, cold garden there's chickens and ducks
Ane a pig and a sheep and a bull

CHO: I brew home brewed bread and I brew home brewed cheese
I brew home brewed beer and I drink it
My rusty, cold knowledge is second to none
I don't say a lot but I think it

At four in the morning I rise from my bed
For that is the lot of the farmer
If you saw my missus then you'd understand
I call her my morning alarmer

On Monday and Tuesday I take life quite slow
On Wednesday and Thursday I slack
On Friday and Sarurday I don't do a sight
And by Sunday I'm flat on my back

In Spring that's too wet to go on the land
In Summer that's always too dry
In Autumn that's cold and the crops get the mould
And that's how we keep the prices high

There's April, there's May, there's June and July
There's August, September, October and then
November, December, January, February
And March. Then we all start again

HARVEST AWAY

Now harvest time is here, my boys, so raise a bumper do
The oats and beans and barley, oh, and to the turnips, too
Now early in the morning, oh, we rise up with the quail
A lump of greasy bacon fat and half a pint of ale

CHO: So drink, boys, drink, that is the master's brew
And if you do not drink it there'll be no more work for you

We stagger to the harvest field for to begin our labours
And carry heavy firkins each one bigger than his neighbour's
We've barely started working when we have to stop, I fear
For now that is our duty bound to drind a pint of beer

And at the hour of ten o'clock our progress is cut short
The foreman cries let to my boys, now you must drink a quart
The work is hard, the sun is hot, 'tis hard to keep your balance
Especially in the afternoon when you've had several gallons

When harvest time is over, boys, it's to the pub we'll steer
For there our master doth provide more barrels of strong beer
When closing time is here at last thawnk God we all can stop
For even if he paid us we couldn't drink another drop

Now we will have a holiday before our work's resumption
The doctor says we need the rest, we're suffering from consumption
My back is sore, my arms are stiff, my legs like lumps of lead
But all of that is nothing to the aching in my head

JOAN SUGARBEET

There were three men came out of the East
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
Joan Sugarbeet should die
They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed her in
Threw clods upon her head
And these three men made a solemn vow
Joan Sugarbeet was dead

They let her lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall
Then little lady Joan sprung uo her head
And soon amazed them all
They let her stand till midwinter
Till she looked both flaccid and green
And little Lady Joan she grew a big bottom
And so became a queen

They hired men with hands so strong
To pull her out of bed
They cut her in half around the waist
And threw away her head
They hired men with sharp pitchforks
Who piled her by the road
But the driver he served her worse than that
For he threw her upon his load

They rolled her along and along the road
Till at Cantley they did meet
And there they made a bloody great stack
Of poor Joan Sugarbeet
They hired men with choppers so huge
To chop her into bits
And the Sugar Corporation served her worse than that
For they drowned her in a pit

Here's little Lady Joan in a china cup
And lumps all in a bowl
And little Lady Joan in the china cup
She proved the sweeter girl
For the office boy can't balance his books
Nor keep his desk so neat
And the housewife can't enjoy her cup of P. G. Tips
Without a little bit of Joan Sugarbeet
^^

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 31-Jan-02.