Old Rose & Crown (Ian Robb)

Subject: Old Rose & Crown
From: mick
Date: 24 Feb 98 - 06:57 PM

Searching for the origins of this song. The chords the key or any info. you might have. Visit: http://members.aol.com/ukmick/homepage/index2.html

Subject: RE: Old Rose & Crown
From: Micky
Date: 24 Feb 98 - 07:01 PM

The original thread is from micky mick and micky is the same person

Subject: RE: Old Rose & Crown
From: Barry Finn
Date: 24 Feb 98 - 09:30 PM

Check in the data base under Old Rose and Crown, written by Ian Robb. Barry

Subject: RE: Old Rose & Crown
From: Micky
Date: 25 Feb 98 - 04:34 PM

Thanks Will do

Subject: RE: Old Rose & Crown (Ian Robb)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 06 Jun 22 - 04:22 PM

http://www.geocities.ws/george_seto.geo/rose_crwn.html

at they've done to the beer.
For their shandies and lagers that will make you feel queer.
For an arm and a leg, they will fill up your glass
With a half and half mixture of ullage and gas.

So come all you good people who like to sip ale
Here's hope to a happier end to my tale
For there's nothing can fill a man's heart with more cheer
Than to sit in a pub with a pint of good beer.

Martha Stewart Doesn't Live Here
tune of "The Old Rose and Crown"
written by Pat Favorite 3/98
My house is my home, but it's not polished clean.
And it never will look like those pictures I've seen,
Perfectly colored, and clean as a wink.
For instead, I've got clutter and pots in my sink.
Chorus
So here's to the housework, we'll sing with good cheer,
Here's to the house, we can clean it next year,
And when folks come to visit, it's perfectly clear,
That Miss Martha Stewart, she doesn't live here.

My kitchen is full of yesterday's mess,
And the laundry's piled up to the sky, I confess,
And the flowers on my table have wilted and died,
And the dog looks as though he's missed going outside.

The kids chase the dog, and the dog hunts the cats,
The cats chase each other, and get into spats,
And the fur's always flying as thick as you please,
Till it settles around us and makes us all sneeze.

The bathroom's become my dear children's domain,
There are towels in the shower and hair in the drain,
And the steam turns to mildew, the mildew to rot,
Till the floor does resemble the land time forgot.

My house bursts with clutter, and children, and pets,
And although it's not perfect, I have no regrets,
And I have no desire for her beautiful home,
For if Miss Martha lives there, she lives there alone.