Lyr Req: Send In The Browns

Subject: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns
From: GUEST,edthefolkie
Date: 22 Aug 07 - 06:37 AM

This has been bugging me for years! Somebody used to do a parody of "Send In The Clowns" which was a tribute to Newcastle Brown Ale. May have been Tony Capstick of blessed memory. All I can remember is:

Isn't it strong
Newcastle beer
Me lying here on the ground
Legs in the air
Where are the browns?
There ought to be browns

Anybody recognise this? Thanks in advance....Ed

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns
From: nickp
Date: 22 Aug 07 - 11:53 AM

SOunds like it should be Les Barker but that's a complete guess.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns
From: manitas_at_work
Date: 22 Aug 07 - 12:11 PM

While on the subject does anyone know who is responsible for this?

Isn't it grand?
Don't you agree?
Millions of men in the world and
All of them me...

Send in the clones.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns
From: Geordie-Peorgie
Date: 22 Aug 07 - 03:38 PM

Aah hord it by Fred Wedlock:

Isn't it strong
Newcastle beer
Me lying here on the ground
Legs in the air
Where are the browns?
There ought to be browns

Just when I'd stopped falling through doors
Finally finding my way from the 'gents' to the bar
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Arse over tit! straight down the stairs

I looked a prat! I felt a berk
Just like a three-legged man with one leg that worked
Send in the browns
Send in the clown
Don't bother I'm here


Aah thowt ye might like this'n an' aall


I've been out on the town care of Newcastle Brown
And I don't think I'll get home this-a-way
The pub door is shut tight and I'm alone, here in the night
And I'm just a hundred yards away from home

Chorus
A hundred yards, A hundred yards, A hundred yards, A hundred yards
And I'm just a hundred yards away from home

I can't shout, scream or stutter as I lie here in the gutter
And the last bus home leaves treadmarks on my tie
I've got my foot stuck down this drain and it's coming on to rain
And I'm just a hundred yards away from home

Well, I'm feeling kinda funny – It must be that Madras curry
I can see my front door in the neon light (That split the night)
I can hear the steady beat of some copper's hob-nailed feet
And I'm just a hundred yards away from home

In this prison cell I lie with vomit down my tie
Take heed young man! Wherever you may roam
If you think you're the wild rover just be sure you don't fall over
Just a hundred yards away from home