The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #53303 Message #821631
Posted By: vectis
08-Nov-02 - 01:57 PM
Thread Name: DTStudy: Hot Ash-Pelt (Hot Asphalt)
Subject: RE: DTStudy: Hot Ash-Pelt (Hot Asphalt)
Isn't it amazing how many different versions of one song you can get. This is the one I learned 30+ years ago on the Isle of Wight, or home as I used to call it.
Oh! We laid it on the hollows and we laid it on the flat.
If it doesn't last forever, lads I swear, I'll eat my hat.
I've travelled the wide world over and never have I felt
Any surface that is equal to the hot asphalt...
Oh! Good evening everybody sure it's nice to see you well,
Come in and gather round me and a story I will tell,
'Tis of a situation and begorra and begob,
I can whisper I've a weekly wage of nineteen bob.
'Tis twelve months gone October since I left my native home,
After helping in Killarney for to get the harvest home,
And now I wear a Guernsey and around my waist a belt,
I'm the gaffer of the squad that lays the hot asphalt.
One evening this copper comes and says to me "McGuire,
Wont you kindly let me light me pipe around your boiler fire?"
He sits himself right down in front with his hobnails up 'till eight,
I says "I'm a decent man! You'd better go and mind your beat."
He turns and yells "I'm down on you! I'm up to all your pranks!
And I know you for a traitor from the Tipperary ranks!"
I hits him from the shoulder, boys, and gave him such a belt,
That I knocked him in the boiler full of hot asphalt.
Well we quickly pulled him out again and threw him in a tub,
And with soap and boiling water we began to rub and scrub.
But the devil a bit of tar came off and it turned as hard as stone,
And with every other rub you could hear that copper groan.
"I'm thinking" Says O'Riley "That he's looking like Old Nick,
And burn me if I'm not inclined to clean him with my pick."
"Oh!" Says I "It would be easier to boil him 'till he melts
And to stir him nice and easy in the hot asphalt."
You may talk about your soldier boys your sailors and the rest,
Your shoemakers and tailors that do please the ladies best.
But the only ones that know the way the flinty heart to melt,
Are the boys around the boiler stirring hot asphalt.
With the rubbing and the scrubbing sure I caught my death of cold,
And for scientific purposes my body it was sold.
In the Kelvin Road Museum lads I'm hanging by the belt,
As a monument to the dire effects of hot asphalt.