Subject: Lyr Add: THE FAMOUS NAME OF 'SMALL'
From:
Monologue John
Date: 21 Nov 23 - 05:34 AM
THE FAMOUS NAME OF 'SMALL' by V.F. Stevens and Lauri Bowen
There are names as written down in Britain's history,
Sooch as Drake and Nelson, Iron Dook an' all.
But coom to work it out, bloomin' names like them are nowt,
When reckoned wi' the name of Samuel Small.
From the day that Conquering Bill came here in One-o-sixty-six,
The name of Small 'as always 'eld its spell.
It were a Small as plucked the posies, for the "Battle of the Roses",
There were a Small at Waterloo tha knows as well.
One Small coom down from Lancashire to join wi' Robin Hood,
'E 'ad a saucy posh green suit and curly locks,
'E were one o't Smalls from Wigan, but, By Gum, 'e were a big 'un,
'E must a' stood nigh seven foot in socks.
Underneath the greenwood tree, they gave Sam a long oak staff,
A kind o' scaffold pole cut fresh from glen.
An' they told 'im there at once, it were for crackin' folk on't bonce,
'Cos they hadn't 'eard of ruddy muskets then.
Sam very soon got doughty wi' is scaffold-pole of oak,
As an archer, 'is skill won all their hearts.
At 'undred yards 'e'd kill a sparrow, 'e were 'ot wi' bow and arrow.
Well, the Smalls today are champion at darts.
But alas! it were 'is fondness for stringing bows at birds,
That eventually brought owd Sam to grief.
'Cos 'e weren't content wi' potting 'em, in't forest outside Nottingham,
'E draws a bow at bird belonging t' Chief.
It happened in this way, one day Robin were on scrounge,
And he chanced to roam a longish way from camp;
So Sam thought he'd try to carry on wi' the pretty wench Maid Marion
And 'e tried 'is luck and slung 'er the glad lamp.
Now this pretty wench Maid Marion she were a comely dame,
No 'igh'eeled shoes nor swanking wi' bobbed 'air,
She'd not gone in for slimmin', like your bloomin' modern wimmin',
A gradely lump o' lass she were, so there!
"Good morrow, fairest damsel," said Sam, all gushing like,
"Gad-zooks! I'd like to walk with thee I trow."
But when Marion got a sight o' this great Wigan blighter,
Said she, "If Robin comes there'll be a row."
"Don't fill your pretty head with thoughts like that," said Sam,
"Besides 'e rode away at early dawn."
And Sam started into doing a reet champion o' wooing,
But just then they heard a blast on Robin's horn.
Now that single plaintive note which rang through Sherwood's glade,
Were a sign that Robin wanted 'elp and such.
So his men soon gathered round, Robin counted them and found
One short, but did he worry? Ho! not much.
'E soon tumbled it were Sam, and guessed what 'e were 'at,
And tha knows 'e never even clenched a fist;
'E just turned to Friar Tuck and said, "I wish that blighter luck,
I'm glad because that dame's on't transfer list.
But we mustn't let 'im get away wi' such a trick as that,
We must make a pris'ner of 'im," Robin said,
"And according to our creed 'e'll consider 'imself freed,
The moment 'e and Marion are wed."
Now remember what I said at first about our famous names,
And about theer always being one called Small,
Well, Sam and Marion went great guns, for she bore him Seven Sons,
And every one a Sam! She did an' all!'
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