Rugby Football Songs

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 15 Nov 02 - 10:58 PM

An appropriate song for this immediate period in history, as we are posed on the brink of another war with Iraq.

I have chosen to post this to the "Rugby Thread" because of its ribald content and more importantly, its origins are within the Camp Pendleton Marine Base – the song-book source for my previous postings to this thread. However, the immediate reference is even stranger.

Roll Me in Your Arms - "Unprintable" Ozark Folksongs and Folklore", Volume 1, Folksongs and Music, Vance Randolph, University of Arkansas Press, 1992, No. 180 Root, Hog or Die! p 576-579.

"The original 1850's "Bullwhackers' song" lent itself to lively parodies….

"Here is the text of "Old Saddam Hussein" (or "old Harem-Scarem"), collected at the U.S. Marine Carps boot training camp, Pendleton, California, February 1991. See glossarial notes at the end of the text. Each double stanza repeats its own last two lines, as shown, to form the chorus. The cannibalistic images are striking:

When old Saddam Hussein found
His pecker (ellick) wouldn't stand,
He thought he's sell his harem
And work it off by hand
The pussies all got frantic
And his wives began to cry,
He called his asshole-buddies,
Told 'em Root hog or die!

Root hog or die! Root hog or die!
He called his asshole-buddies,
Told 'em, Root hog or die!

When old Saddam Hussein
Came 'round here in the south,
We cut his pickled pecker off
And stuffed it in his mouth.
We boiled his balls for supper
An' Hung his asshole out to dry,
We told that mother-fucker
He could root hog or die.!

Root hog or die! Root hog or die!
He called his asshole-buddies,
Told 'em, Root hog or die!

Well, old Saddam Hussein
Had the nerve to claim he'd stay,
He thought he's wave his scepter
(Hand-gester of masturbating:)
And the Corps would run away.
We chopped him up for pigfood
In his dirty, rotten sty,
We told that mother-fucker
He could root hog or die!

When old Saddam Hussein
Started burning up the gas,
We took his poisoned Scuds
And we shoved them up his ass.
We shot him full of Patriots
And blasted him sky-high,
We told that mother-fucker
He could root hog or die!

If the Army and the Navy
Ever get to Heaven's halls,
They will find old Saddam sliding
Down the staircase on this balls.
We'll ca-ter-ate that bastard
Or we'll know the reason why,
We'll show that mother-fucker
He can root hog or die!

Root hog or die! Root hog or die!
He called his asshole-buddies,
Told 'em, Root hog or die!

"The singer added that he also knew a sequel called ' Kuwaitus Interruptus.'"….In stanza 1:2 above, pecker penis, and so also the dialectal variant ellick, from the Scottish name Alec, as in "smart aleck," for any disliked would-be hero or wit.

Randolph within this immediate section also includes an interesting footnote. It is regarding rap (so disliked by some current wannnabe mudcat drop-ins) and yet a rich, ripe area of lyric harvesting. (Xenophobes!!!)

"In 2:7 mother-fucker, originally a Negro slang term used aggressively in "dozens" insult-contests or "rap" sessions as the most extreme insult possible, but not often meant literally and sometimes abbreviated expurgatorial – especially by white jazz musicians – to "mother" or mockingly varied Oedipally to "granny-jazzer" or "poppa-hoppa."

Sincerely,
Gargoyle

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: Snuffy
Date: 22 Dec 01 - 07:02 AM

Dan Farson is just plain wrong on this one

They called the bastard Stephen, 'Cos that was the name of the ink.

When I was at Grammar School in the 50s/60s all our work had to be done in fountain pen, and you had to carry a bottle of ink round in your satchel for refilling purposes. Steven's Blue-Black ink was my prefered choice, but some of the other kids used Quink instead.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 22 Dec 01 - 01:11 AM

In the DT as the "Foreman's Song" this is another version. The DT tune identified as "Red Flag" (CLICK) is of course "Oh Tannenbaum." A parody/reply of the James O'Connel 1899 version in the DT (click)

RED FLAG

CHORUS:
The working class can kiss my ass,
I've got the foreman's job at last
The proletariat can kiss,
My fundmental orifice;
I'm upper class and off the dole,
So shove that red flag up your hole.

"Twas on Gibraltar's Rock so fair,
I saw a maiden lying there,
And as she lay in sweet repose,
A nasty wind blew off her clothes.

A sailor who was passing by,
Removed his cap and winked his eye,
But as he saw to his despair,
She had the red flag flying there.

Subject: ADD: In Mobile
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 22 Dec 01 - 12:48 AM

MOBILE

CHORUS:
In Mobile, in Mobile, in-so, in-mo, in Mibile,
Arse holes, arse holes, arse holes, in Mobile.

Oh the seagulls they fly high in Mobile,
Oh the seagulls they fly high in Mobile,
Oh the seagulls they fly high and they shit right in your eye,
Thank the Lord that cows don't fly in Mobile.

There's a man by the name of Hunt in Mobile,
There's a man by the name of Hunt in Mobile,
There's a man by the name of Hunt and he thought he had a cunt,
But his arse was back to front in Mobile.

There's a shortage of good bogs in Mobile,
There's a shortage of good bogs in Mobile,
There's a shortage of good bogs, so they wait until it clogs,
Then they saw it off in logs in Mobile.

There's a shortage of bagpaper in Mobile,
There's a shortage of bagpaper in Mobile,
There's a shortage of bagpaper so they wait until it's vapor,
Then they light it with a taper in Mobile.

There's a man by the name of Smith in Mobile,
There's a man by the name of Smith in Mobile,
There's a man by the name of Smith and he thinks the he can't sniff,
Foul odor from the syph in Mobile.

Oh they teach the babies tricks in Mobile,
Oh they teach the babies tricks in Mobile,
Oh they teach the babies tricks and by the time that they are six,
The suck their father's pricks in Mobile.

It's a fuck of a (illegable)….. in Mobile,
It's a fuck of a (illegable)….. in Mobile,
It's a fuck of a (illegable)….. and they're sunk in masterbation,
For their (illegable)………… in Mobile.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 10:51 PM

WE'RE ALL QUEERS TOGETHER

CHORUS:
Oh, we're all queers together,
Excuse us whilst we go upstairs.
Yes, we're all queers together,
And heretofore shall travel in pairs.

I went for a ride on the tram-tram,
It was crowded and I had to stand,
When a sweet little boy offered his seat,
I reached (illegable)…. my hand.

I went to sell my motorcar,
Iwent to the man from Hertz,
He asked me what was my bottom price,
I said, "Let's sell my car first."

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 10:13 PM

Ah...Mr. Parks no doubt, you knew THIS obscure one for the same reason I know twenty songs with gargoyle in them.

THE MAID OF THE MOUNTAIN GLEN

CHORUS:
They called the bastard Stephen,
They called the bastard Stephen,
They called the bastard Stephen,
His father's name was Quink.

There was maid of the mountain glen,
Seduced herself with a fountain pen,
The pen it broke and the ink ran wild,
And she gave birth to a blue-black child.

Stephen was a bonny child,
Pride and joy of his mother's mind
And all that worried her was this –
His steady stream of blue=black piss.

Mary of New Brighton Pier,
Seduced herself with a bottle of beer,
The top came off and the froth ran wild,
And she gave birth to a nut brown child.

FINAL CHORUS:
They called the bastard Frellfalls,
They called the bastard Frellfalls,
They called the bastard Frellfalls,
For that was the name of the beer!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 09:55 PM

Perhaps, this thread, from the old "Glory Days of the MudCat" refers to your books. I will also seek out the LP's mentioned

The song posting immediately following this is the full version of the one Steve Parkes posted

http://mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=10022

Steve Parkes lyrics request - my rhubarb refuses to rise RE: lyrics request - my rhubarb refuses to rise 30-Mar-99

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Are you collecting rugby songs? There used to be several books and one or two lp records (the Jock Strapp Ensemble, if memory serves) - if they're not still in print, there must be a lot going at second hand.

From our "Fancy that!" department: writer and researcher Dan Farson reckons that prime Jack the Ripper suspect James K Stephen was the Stephen in

Mary from the Mountain Glen
Seducesd herself with a fountain pen.
The pen it broke, the ink ran wild,
And she gave birth to a blue-black child!
They called the bastard Stephen [shout: Stephen!] [x3]
'Cause that was the name of the ink [shout: Not Quink!!]

Interestingly, this is one of the (relatively!) more poetic rather than merely obsecene examples. Some were obviously written by "genuine" poets -

Dylan Thomas used to turn a good rude rhyme in the pub, for example.

And "Eskimo Nell has been attributed to Robert Service. A verse like

Oh, have you seen the pistons
On the mighty CPR,
With the pounding force of a thousand horse? -
Well, you know what pistons are!

is what George Orwell would have called "good bad poetry" (or maybe the other way about!). It's humorous and well put together; the whole piece could have been written very effectively using euphemism rather than obscenity; but maybe the mores of the times (1900-1920?) meant that anything that risqu‚ would have no circulation except in the circles where obscenity was commonplace.

We could go on for hours, couldn't we?! I'll let somenone else have the floor, though.

Steve (Queen Mary's Grammar School RFC (League, not Union!) 3rd 11, 1962-1965)

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 09:39 PM

Gareth - Thanks for dropping in on the thread - I will seek and secure the two books you mentioned. These postings are coming from photocopied notes that were typed and handwritten except where noted with a page number that was copied from an unidentified source.

Dick Greenhouse - has a wonderful, humorous, bawdy collection of classics, many of which are also "rugby classics" - This thread is filling in for the specific ones not already in his Digital Tradition Archive.....

PLEASE POST ANY bits, pieces, snippets or songs that you know....and if possible....where you first became aware of them.

THANX again for dropping by, sometimes it gets lonely and cold... high on the steeple.... gurgling rainwater in the night....down on the people...... but I now have a MUCH greater respect for the original "labor of love" dick and susan spawned.

Sincerely,
Gargoyle

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: Gareth
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 06:35 PM

Gargoyle.

Most of your last postingd seem to be lifts from those exellent text books "Rugby Songs" & "More Rugby Songs"

jon D my taal may be getting a little rusty these days but No 2 Sister is still fluent.

In the interest of a dying culture these should be recorded.

Gareth

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 06:23 PM

I DON'T KNOW WHAT HIS NAME IS…

CHORUS:
I don't know what his name is and whatever it may be,
Just listen while I tell you what he did to me!

I went through the front gate,
Like a good girl should,
And he slipped roung the back way
Like I knew he would.

I went in through the front door,
Like a good girl should,
And he slipped in behind me
Like I knew he would.

I went up the stairs,
Like a good girl should,
And he came behind me
Like I hoped he would.

I took all my clothes off
Like a good firl should
And he took off his trousers,
Like I knew he would.

I put on my 'jamas,
Like a good girl should,
And he then took them off again,
Like I knew he would.

I got into bed,
Like a good girl should
And he got in beside me,
Like I knew he would.

I laid on my side,
Like a good girl should,
But then he turned me over,
Like I knew he would.

FINAL CHORUS:
I don't know what his name is and whether he may may be,
It's none of your damn business what he did to me!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 06:11 PM

JOHN - Please Post the LYRICS! Sounds like a hoot. Only hippo song I have is about wanting one for Christmas....and its not rugby.

Sincerely,
Gargoyle

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: BlueFolk
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 02:58 AM

A funny rugbysong is "Hippo in a Skrum" by Leon Schuster, but to appreciate it you have to speak a litte Afrikaans (language of a South African Boer).

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 21 Dec 01 - 01:18 AM

It is HARD to imagine these ditty's do not reside elsewhere on the the net….but… for the most part…. many are original postings….. While they are a glorious tribute laid at the feet of Dick and Susan…they are grudgingly laid on the max location of cripples.

This one might be adopted as the anthem for Max himself!!!

Anyone looking for a thesis "Machaveli on the Net?" (follow the threads of the puss-filled-pussy)

QUEEN OF ALL THE FAIRIES

CHORUS:
Twenty-one, never been done,
Queen of all the fairies.

Oh, she was a cripple with only one nipple,
To feed the baby one.
Poor little fucker, he's only one sucker
To start his life upon.

Ain't it a pity she'd only one titty
To feedhe baby on.
Poor little bugger, he'll never play rugger,
Nor grow up big and strong.

And as he got older and boldr and bolder,
]And took himselof in hand.
And slipped and flipped and flippped and flipped,
To the tune of the army band.

They tried his in the infantry,
They tried him on the land an sea,
The por little bugger has no success,
He left evert;ying in a terrible mess.

We see no hope for his unless
He joins the Women's Royal Air Force.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 20 Dec 01 - 04:16 AM

THEY'RE DIGGIN UP DAD'S REMAINS

They're digging up dad's remains to build a sewer;
They're doing the job regardless of expense;
They're diggin up dad's remains to make way for ten inch drains
To satisfy some rich man's residence, 'gor blieme'.
Now father in his lifetime wasn't a quitter, a quitter;
And I don't suppose he'll be a quitter now;
Cause he'll dress up in a sheet and he'll haunt the shithouse seat
And only let toffs go when he allows, 'gor blieme'.
Now won't there be some horrible constipation;
Oh, won't the loos bound toffs oh rack and rave;
But it serves them bloody well right;
For having the perishing nerve to muck about with a British workman's grave!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 20 Dec 01 - 04:13 AM

THE HOLE IN THE ELEPAHNT'S BOTTOM

I wanted to go on the stage
And now my ambition I've gotten
In pantomine I'm all the rage
As the ass hole in the elephant's bottom.

His balls they hang so low
I think I could knott 'em
As I wink at the girls in the pit
Through the ass hole in the elephant's bottom

The man who plays the front part
Is absolutely rotten
All he can do is to fart,
Through the ass hole in the elphant's bottom.

There are pockets inside the clothes
For two bottle of Bass, if you got 'em
But they hiss and the boo when out they froth,
Through the ass hole of the elephant's bottom.

Now my part hasen't got any words
But there's nothing that can't be forgotten
I spend all my time pushing property turds
Through the ass hole in the elephant's bottom.

Some may think that this story is good,
And some may believe that it is rotten,
But those that don't like it can stuff it right up,
The ass hole in the elephant's bottom.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Dec 01 - 11:01 PM

A SONG ABOUT TURDS

CHORUS:
Toorala, Tooralay,
A rolling stone gathers no moss so they say,
Sing along with the birds,
It's beautiful son but it's all about turds.

There was an old lady who lived on West Street,
And she was all stopped up from too much to eat,
So she swallowed some pills without reading the box,
And the first thing she knew turds came flying like rocks.

Sjhe ran to the window and stuck out her ass,
Just as she did a young cowboy did pass,
He turned to the sound that he heard up on high,
And a bloody great turd hit him right in the eye.

He ran to the east and he ran to the west,
A bloddy great turd hit him right in the chest,
He ran to the north and he ran to the south
Another great turd hit him right in the mouth.

If ever you pass o'er the Flat River bridge
And see a young cowboy asleep on the ridge,
Just stop by the roadside and pray for a bit
Drop a tear for a cowboy whose buried in shit.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Dec 01 - 09:04 PM

There are three versions of this ditty in the DT but here is a fourth, and this is a BETTER version

CHARLOTTE THE HARLOT LAY DYING

TUNE: My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean

CHORUS:
"I've been had by the army, the navy,
By a bullfighting toreadore,
By dages and dronges and dinges,
But never by maggots before,
So roll back you dirty old assholes
And give me the cream of your nuts."
So they rolled back their dirty old assholes,
And played "Home Sweet Home" on their guts.

Charlotte the Halot lay dying,
A piss-pot supported her head,
The blow-flies were buzzing around her,
She lay on her left tit and said:

Charlotte the Harlot repented,
She'd never have another bang,
She wanted to go to heaven,
So she rolled on her right tit and sang:

Charlotte the Harlot was buried,
The town was much quieter than before,
But one night at the local brothel,
Her ghost she appeared in the beer!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Dec 01 - 12:18 AM

Listed as page 141 from the original of a photo-copied insert in the Pendleton book.

FLY AWAY YOU BUMBLE BEE

Sambo was a lazy coon
Who used to sleep in the afternoon
So tired was he
So tired was he
Off to the forest he would go
Swinging his hands to and fro
Whan along came a bee
A bloody great bumble bee
Bzz, bzz, bzz, bzz

"Get away you bumble bee
I ain't no rose
I ain't no syphilitic bastard
Get off my ******** nose.
Get off my nasal organ
Don't you come near
If you wants a bit o'fanny
You can **** my granny
But you'll get no ****hole here.

****hole rules the Navy
****hole rules the sea
If you wants a bit o'bum
You can ****my chum
But you'll get no **** from me!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 18 Dec 01 - 12:07 AM

There is a version in the DT ….but the DT's is neither nearly as long, nor as bawdy as this one.

This section is copied from pages 68,69,70, 71 of some other published source that was inserted into the Pendelton Marine Rugby Football Team Song Book.

THE GOOD SHIP VENUS

'Twas on the good ship "Venus,
My God you should 'av seen us,
The figurehead was a nude in bed
Suckin a red-hot *****.

CHORUS: Frigging in the rigging,
Wanking on the planking,
Masturbating on the grating
The was **** all else to do.

The captain's name was Slugger
He was diry bugger
He wasn't fit to shovel ****
On any buger's lugger.

The first mate's name was Paul,
He only had one ****
But with that cracker he rolled terbaccer
Around the cabin wall.

The second mate's name was Andy
His ***** were long and bandy,
The filled his **** with molten brass
For pissing in the brandy.

The third mate's name was Morgan,
He was a frisly Gorgan,
Three time a day he strummed away
Upon his sexual organ.

The captain's wife was Mabel
And whenever she was able
She gave the crew their Daily Screw
Upon the messroom table.

The Captain's randy daughter
Was swimming in the water,
Delighted squeals came as the eels
Entered her sexual quarter.

A cook whose name was Freeman,
He was dirty demon,
He fed the crew on menstrual stew
And hymens fried in semen.

Another cook was O'Malley,
He didn't dilly dally,
He shot his bolt with such a jolt
He whitewashed half the galley.

The Boatswain's name was Lester,
He was a hymen tester,
Through hymens thick he hoved his ****
And left it there to fester.

The engineer was McTavish
And young girls he did ravish,
His missing ****'s at Istanbul
He was a trifle lavish.

A homo was the Purser,
He couldn't have been worser,
With all the crew he had screw,
Until they yelled, "Oh no sir."

Another one was Cropper
Oh Christ he had a whopper,
Twice round the deck
Once round his neck
And up his bum for a stopper.

The cobin boy was Kipper,
A dirty little nipper, They stuffed his *** with broken glass
And circumcised the skipper.

The ship's dog's name was Rover
The whole crew did him over,
They ground and ground the fiathful hound
From Singapore to Dover,

'Twas in the Adriatic
Where the water's almost static
The rise and full of **** and ****
Was almost automatic.

The end of this naration
Came in jubilation,
For they sunk the junk in a sea of spunk,
Caused by masturbation.

So now we end the serial
Through sheer lack of material
I wish you luck and freedom from
Diseases venereal.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 16 Dec 01 - 11:09 PM

FANNY BAY

If you ever go across the sea to Darwin,
Then maybe at the closing of the day,
You will see the local harlots at their business,
And watch the sun go down on Fanny Bay.

Some are black and some are white,
And some are brindled, and some are young
And some are old and grey,
But what will cost you twenty quid
In Lower Crown Street,
Will cost you half a zac in Fanny Bay.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 16 Dec 01 - 11:04 PM

A variation of "Carolina" found in the DT. I like this one better. Why "Charotte" instead of the better rhyme of "Charlot" I don't know.

CHAROTTE THE HORLOT

CHORUS: She's filthy, she's nasty
She shits on the floor,
Chorotte the Harlot,
The cowpuncher's whore.

Way out in the Wild West where the cactus lies thick,
Where the women are women and the men they come quick,
There lives a fair maiden of forty or more;
Chaorotte the Harlot the cowpuncher's whore.

One night on the prairie while riding along,
One hand on my pistol and one on my dong,
When who should I spy but the maid I adore,
Charotte the Harlot the cowpucher's whore.

One night on the desert her legs opened wide,
A rattlesnake saw it and crawled up inside.
Now all the young cowboys on Saturday night
Come see the vagina that rattles and bites.

I leapt from my saddle and reached for her crack,
But the damn thing was rattling and biting me back,
I pulled out my six-gun and aimed for its head,
I pulled the trigger, shot Charotte instead!

Up got Charotte all covered with muck
And said, "Oh, dear cowboy, what a glorious fuck!"
She stepped a pace forward and fell flat on the floor,
And that was the end of the cowpuncher's whore.

The funereal procession was forty miles long,
And all of the cowboys were singin this song,
"Here lies a maiden who never kept score:
Charlotte the Harlot the cowpucher's whore."

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 16 Dec 01 - 11:01 PM

I LOVE MY WIFE

I love my wife;
I love her truly;
I love the hole
She pisses through.
I love her tit-tittly-tits tittly-tits
And her brown arse hole.
I could eat her shit,
Chomp, chomp, gobble, gobble,
With a rusty spoon,
With a rusty spoon.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 13 Dec 01 - 08:43 PM

THE LOBSTER

CHORUS:
Singing ho tiddly ho
Shit or bust!
Never let your bullocks
Dangle in the dust!

Good morning Mister Fisherman,
Good morning Sir, said he;
Have you a lobster
You can sell to me?

Yes, Sir said the Fisherman
I have two;
The biggest of the bastards
I will give to you.

I took the lobster home
And I couldn't find a dish,
So I put it in the pot
Where the Missus has a piss.

In the middle of the night
The wife got out of bed;
She piddle' in the pot
Right on the lobster's head.

The Missus gave a giggle
The wife gave a grunt;
A dirty big lobster,
Hanging from here cunt.

The wife grabbed the shovel,
And I grabbed the broom,
We chased that fucking lobster
Round and round the room.

We hit it in the head,
We hit it on the side;
We hit that fucking lobster,
Till the bastard died.

The moral of this story,
The moral, it is this,
Always have a look-see
Before you take a piss.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 13 Dec 01 - 08:40 PM

Many different, and better, versions of this one in the DT, but here is still another one.

THERE WAS A YOUNG SAILOR
TUNE: Sweet Violets

There was a young sailor who sat on a rock
Wailing his fists and abusing his.
Navel. A neighboring tavern was watching his fists
Teaching his children to play with their
Kites. and their marbles as in the days of yore
Along came a woman who looked like a
Decent young lady who walked like duck
She said she was learning a new way to
Bring up children and teach them to knit
While the boys in the barnyard were shoveling
The contents of a pig sty muck and mire
The squire of the mannor was pulling his
Horse from the stable to go to the hunt
His wife in the boudoir was powdering her
Nose and arranging her vanity box
And taking precaustions to ward off the
Gout and rhuematics which make her feel stiff
Too well did she remember her last dose of.
What did you think I was going to say?
No, you rude bugger, tha't all for today!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 13 Dec 01 - 08:38 PM

THE COUNTRY GENTLEMAN

CHORUS:
Singing High Jig-a-Jig, Fuck the little pig.
Follow the band, Follow the band all the way.
Singing High Jig-a-Jig, Fuck a little pig.
Follow the band, Follow the band all the way!

I took my Missus horse riding, horse riding
She stuck it as long as she could;
She stuck it and stuck it until she said, "Fuck it,
My arse hole is not made of wood."

I took my wife for a ramble, a ramble
Along a country land
She caught her left tit on a bramble, a bramble
And arse over buttocks she came.

I asked her if it hurt her, hurt her,
If she had gone through any pain.
Before she could answer, could answer
She was arse over buttocks again.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 13 Dec 01 - 08:37 PM

LET ME CALL YOU SWEETHEART
Tune: Same

Let me call you sweetheart
I'm in love with you.
Let me rub your bubbies,
'Til they're black and blue.
Let me stroke your vulva,
'Til its filled with goo.
Lets play hide the weeney,
Up your old wazoo!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 12 Dec 01 - 10:26 PM

O'Reilly's Daughter

CHORUS:
Yi-di-I-ay, Yi-di-I-oh,
Yi-di-I ay for the one-eyed Reilly,
Rub-it-up, shove-it-up balls and all
Jig-a-jig. Tres bon.

Sitting one night in O'Reilly's bar
Drinking beer that was just like water,
Suddenly a thought ran through my head
I'd never fucked O'Reilly's daughter.

I took her gently by the hand
Led her upstairs like a lamb to slaughter
Laid her gently on the bed
And quickly cocked my left leg over.

I fucked her standing,
I fucked her lying,
If she'd had wings,
I'd have fucked her flying.

I heard Reilly coming up the stairs
Up the stairs intent on slaughter,
With two pistols in his hand
Looking for the fellow that fucked his daughter.

I grabbed O'Reilly by the hair
Stuck his head in the bucket of water
Rammed the pistols up his hole
A fucking sight quicker than I'd shagged his daughter,

Now I'm growing old and grey
And my tool is growing shorter
But until my dying day
Oh, I'll remember, O'Reilly's daughter.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 12 Dec 01 - 10:24 PM

The Street of the Thousand Arse Holes

CHORUS:
Her greasy twat,
Was always hot,
U-Flung Shit,
Her name, Her name,
U-Flung-Shit, her name.

In the Street of a Thousand Arse Holes
Neath the sign of the swinging tit,
There lived a Chinese maiden
By the name of U-Flung-Shit.

She sat beneath the joss sticks,
With a smile of celestial bliss,
Her breath like scented lotus,
Her eyes like pools of piss.

She thought of her lover, the bastard,
She thought of her pox ridden beaux,
She thought of the scores she'd had on floors,
When up walked Won-Hung-Low.

"Oh come to me you bag of shit."
He cried with tits in hand,
"My love for you will last for hours
Like ice upon the burning sand."

She raised herself on her starboard tit,
And gave her tits a tweak,
With smiles in her eyes she stared at him,
And said, "Go shit a Peke."

He clutched his tool with calloused hand,
And beat it on the walls,
Removed his hat and trampled that,
Then danced upon his balls.

At length with anger screaming out,
He pissed himself with spleen,
He went and shit and stamped it in,
His scrotum turned quite green.

His anger quickly mastered him,
He felt with fury black,
She stood on him and bared her quim
And pissed on the bugger's back.

The Chinese maiden now is gone,
No longer does she sit,
In the Street of a Thousand Arse Holes,
By the sign of the swinging tit.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 11 Dec 01 - 11:40 PM

The Rugby Tinker

CHORUS:
With his bloody great kidney wiper,
And with balls enough for three,
And a yard and half of foreskin,
Hanging down below his knees.

The lady of manor was dressing for the ball,
When she spied the rugby tinker tossing off against the wall;

She wrote to him a letter and when it he did read,
His balls began to fester and his prick began to bleed;

She wrote to him a letter and in it she did say,
"I'd rather be shagged by you, sir, than his lordship any day!"

He mounted on his charger and on it he did ride,
His prick across his saddle and a ball on either side;

He rode into the courtyard and on up to the hall,
"Bloody," cried the valet, "He has come to fuck us all!"

He fucked them in the kitchen and he fucked them in the stall.
And the way he shagged the valet was the funniest fuck of all:

The tinker begged the mistress and in then minutes she was dead,
With a yard and half of foreskin firmly wrapped about her head;

He rode from out the manor and on into the street,
with the little drops of semen pitter-pattering at his feet;

The inker he is dead now and buried in St. Paul's
It took a team of oxen just to drag away his balls;

Some say he went to heaven and some say he went to hell,
Some say he shagged the devil and we know he shagged him well!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 11 Dec 01 - 11:38 PM

Mrs. Murphy
TUNE - Cassons Go Rolling Along

Give a cheer, give a cheer,
For the men who drink the beer,
In the cellar of Murphy's Saloon.
They are brave, they are bold,
And the sotries that are told,
In the cellar of Murphy's Saloon,
For it's guzzle, guzzle, guzzle,
As they pour it down their muzzle
And they shout out their orders, loud and clear:
"More beer!"
For its more, more, more
As the cops break down the door
In the cellar of Murphy's saloon

Won't you put it in your mouth Mrs. Murphy,
For it only weighs a quarter of pound,
It's got hair on its neck like a turkey,
And it spits when you rub it up and down.

If I had the wings of an eagle,
And the balls of a hairy baboon.
I'd fly up to the top of the mountain,
And jack off on the man on the moon.

Now you say you're still a virgin,
But you're cherry is not there anymore,
So why don't you quit trying to be so perfect
And do the thing that you're best know for.

For now you've got a throat like Linda Lovelace,
And a cunt like a great cathouse whore,
So why don't you please do my peder a favor,
And deep throat me on the barroom floor.

Now we've got a team called Pendleton,
And peckers as long as a boom,
So would you please do your pussy a favor
And keep us mother fuckers out of your room.

We'll eat you and beat you and mistreat you,
While we're singing our dirtiest verse,
Then we'll stick it in your ear and dick you from the rear,
For that's how we build up our thrist.

Sung by the whore house quartet,
Did you go and get it? Not yet.
Are you gonna get it? You bet!
Who you gonn get it from? Ginnette!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:47 PM

DON'T SAY NO

Oh, my darling, don't say no,
Onto the sofa you must go.
Up with your petticoat,
Down with your drawers,
You tickle mine,
And I'll tickle yours.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:46 PM

Verse added.
The WWII Tulagi Song is found in the DT. In the Rugby version the phrase "Fuck 'em all" replaces the PC "bless them all." The following verse is not in the DT.

TULAGI SONG

So here's to your corporals and privates too,
Here's to your sergeants and their bastard sons,
As we fondly do bid them farewell,
The long and short and the tall,
There'll be no promotions this side of the ocean,
The fucking reserves got 'em all.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:45 PM

This one is DIFFERENT LYRICS. There is another one in the DT.

I DON'T WANT TO JOIN THE ARMY

CHORUS
I don't want to join the army,
I don't want to go to war.
I'd rather hang around Piccadilly Underground,
Living off the earnings of a high born lady,
I don't want a bayonet up me asshole,
I don't want me balls shot away.
I'd rather stay in England, in merry, merry England,
and fornicate me fucking life away, oh blimey…..

Monday I touched her on the ankle,
Tuesday I touched her on the knee,
Wednesday with success, I lifted up her dress,
Thursday I saw you know what,
Friday I laid me 'and upon it,
Saturday I gave a little twitch, twitch, twitch,
And Sunday after supper, I rammed my fucker up 'er,
And now she wants it seven days a week, oh blimey….

SECOND
CHORUS:
I don't want to join the Navy,
I don't want to go to sea.
I'd rather hang around Piccadilly Underground,
Living off the earnings of high born lady,
I don't need no Freggy women,
London's full of girls I never had.
I want to stay in Blighty, Lord Gawd Almighty,
Following in the footsteps of me dad.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:44 PM

RUGBY ALMA MATER

The rugby boys are out on the piss again,
Out on the piss again, out on the piss again.
The rugy boys are out on the piss again,
We want to wee-wee now-what do we want boys.
We want to wee-wee now, we want to wee-wee now.
The rugby boys are out on the piss again,
We want to wee-wee now.

The rugger huggers want too much fucky fucky,
Too much fucky fucky, too much fucky fucky.
The rugger huggers want too much fucky fucky,
We want to wee-wee now, we want to wee-wee now.
The rugby boys are out on the piss again,
We want to wee-wee now!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:43 PM

FOR HE'S A DIRTY BASTARD

For he's a dirty Bastard,
Scum of the earth,
Born in a whore house,
Shit on, pissed on, shoved around the universe.

Of all the son-a-bitches
He is the worst
Born down in ________(city of your choice)
The armpit of the universe.

So him, him, fuck him.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:41 PM

Thank you for the correction. If it make the DT no doubt, the correction will be added.

It is good to know that at least one other soul reads these.

With this little encouragment, the scrum marches forward.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST
Date: 19 Nov 01 - 08:39 AM

that's 'threepenny bitties' not 'three bitties'

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 18 Nov 01 - 10:13 PM

A spoof on the Rordean School found within this thread. Personally, this one is better, and some textual references (probably stolen from a classic)indicate, perhaps, it came sooner.

WHOREDEAN SCHOOL
Tune – We Shall Not Be Moved

CHORUS:

Up school, up school, fuck the school,
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, hey,
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la,
Three fingers up your ass!

We are from Whoredean, Whoredean girls are we,
We take no pride in our virginity,
We take precaution and avoid abortions,
We are from Whoredean school.

Our school doctor, she is a beaut,
Teaches us to swerve when our boyfriends shoot,
It saves many marriages and forces miscarriages,
We are from Whoredean school.

We go to Whoredean, don't we have pluck,
We go to bed without asking a buck,
Try us sometime boys, you may be in luck,
We are from Whoredean School.

We have a new girl, her name is Flow,
Nobody thought that she could have a go,
But she surprised the Vicar, by raising him quicker,
We are from Whoredean school.

We go to Whoredean, we can be had,
Don't take our word, boy, ask your old dad,
He brings his friends for breath-taking trends,
We are from Whredean School.

Our house mistress you cannot beat,
She lets us go out walking the street,
We sell our titties for three bitties,
We are from Whore dean School.

Our head prefect, her nema is Jane
She only like it now and again,
And again, and again, and again,
We are from Whoredean school.

Our sports mistress whe is the best,
Teaches us to develop our chest,
So we wear tight sweaters, and carry French letter,
We are from Whoredean school.

Our teacher Porter, he is a fool,
He's only a tenny weeny tool,
It's only good for key holes and little girlie's peeholes
We are from Whoredean school.

We go to Whoredan, don't we have fun,
We know exactly how it is done,
When we lie down we hole it in one,
We are from Whoredean school.

When we go down to the sea for a swim,
The people remark on the size of our quim,
You can bet your bottom dollar, its as big as a horse collar,
We are from Whoredean school.

The girls from Cheltenham, they are just sissies,
They get worked up over one or two kisses,
It takes wax candles and long broom handles,
To rouse girls from Whoredean School.

We are at Whoredean each Witson dance,
We don't wear bras and we don't wear pants,
We like to give our boyfriends a chance,
We are from Whoredean school.

When we go down to Vicar's for tea,
He always lets us sit on his knee,
We make him randy and he gives us candy
We are from Whoredean school.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 18 Nov 01 - 12:10 AM

Back in November of 99, a thread http://mudcat.org/thread.CFM?threadID=15135 was created requesting additional lyrics to this song. Combining those few and these we have the most complete version on the net…..(for twenty-eight minutes until "the bots" grab this and add it to their page.)

((Which is VERY good…nice bots, good boys, here take a byte.))

IF I WERE THE MARRYING KIND

CHORUS:
If I were the marrying kind,
I thank the lord I'm not sir,
The kind of man that I would be. . .

WOULD BE RUGBY FULL-BACK
I'd find touch, she'd find touch.
We'd both find touch together,
We'd be all right in the middle on the night,
Finding touch together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY HOOKER.
I'd strike hard, she'd strike hard,
We'd both strike hard together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Striking hard together.

WOULD BE A CENTER THREE-QUARTER.
I'd pass out, she'd pass out,
We'd both pass out together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Passing it out together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY REFEREE'S WHISTLE
I'd blow hard, she'd blow hard,
We'd both blow hard together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Blowing hard together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY PROP-FORWARD
I'd bind tight, she'd bind tight,
We'd both bind tight together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Binding tight together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY FLY HALF
I'd whip it out, she'd whip it out,
We'd all whip it out together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Be whipping it out together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY SCRUM HALF
I'd put it in, she'd put it in,
We'd all put it in together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Putting it in together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY SCRUM ORANGE
I'd get sucked, she'd get sucked,
We'd all get sucked together,
|We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Getting sucked together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY SPECTATOR.
I'd come again, she'd come again,
We'd all come again together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Coming again together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY SECOND ROW.
I'd push hard, she'd push hard,
We'd both push hard together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Pushing hard together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY GROUNDSKEEPER NUMBER ONE.
I'd trim bush, she'd trim bush,
We'd all trim bush together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Trimming bush together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY GROUNDSKEEPER NUMBER TWO
I'd fill holes, she'd fill holes,
We'd all fill holes together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Filling holes together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY TICKET TAKER
I'd punch holes, she'd punch holes,
We'd all punch holes together
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Punching holes together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY SPECTATOR IN THE RAIN.
I'd wear rubbers, she'd wear rubbers,
We'd all wear rubbers together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Wearing rubbers together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY NUMBER EIGHT MAN
I'd sniff ass, she'd sniff ass,
We'd all sniff ass together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Sniffing ass together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY GOAL POST
I'd stand erect, she'd stand erect,
We'd all stand erect together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Stand Erect together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY TOUCH LINE.
I'd get laid, she'd get laid,
We'd all get laid together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Getting laid together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY PARTIER.
I'd keep it up, she'd keep it up,
We'd all keep it up together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Keeping it up together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY WING NUMBER ONE.
I'd get nothing, she'd get nothing,
We'd all get nothing together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Getting nothing together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY FULLBACK NUMBER TWO.
I'd kick balls, she'd kick balls,
We'd all kick balls together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Kicking balls together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY WIND NUMBER TWO.
I'd drop balls, she'd drop balls,
We'd all drop balls together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Dropping balls together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY CLEAT.
I'd come in a box, she'd come in a box,
We'd all come in a box together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Coming in a box, together.

WOULD BE A SCRUM HALF'S DAUGHTER
Then she'd put it in, and I'd put it in,
We'd both put it in together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Putting it in together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY THREE QUATER
I'd be going hard and she'd be going hard
We'd all be going hard together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Going hard together.

WOULD BE A RUGBY PROP SIR
I'd support a hook and she'd support a hooker
We'd all support a hooker together,
We'd be all right in the middle of the night,
Supporting a hooker.

WOULD BE A RUGBY BALL SIR
I'd get pumped and she'd get pumped
We'd all get pumped together,
We'd be all righ in the middle of the night
Getting pumped sir.

v

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 17 Nov 01 - 12:17 AM

This is close as possible to the original written text's, layout and design; it is neither edited nor corrected, with the typos and original line breaks included. These were still the days of the manual and "selectric" typewriters.

The following explanation from/within the manuscript explains why I believe some of these songs, (hopefully dick/Susan will concur) belong within the anals (sic) of the Digital Tradition.

Sincerely,
The Digital Tradition's most humble of servants,
Gargoyle

PENDLETON'S FUCKING OFFICIAL (?) INTRODUCTION

The sport of Rugby is unique but oddly enough the action on the
playing field itself has little to do with this distinction. The
stamina, skills and risk of bodily harm can be matched, all or in
part, by other sports. The can't, however, match the unusual comb-
ination of sport of sportsmanship, comaraderie, humor and enthusiasm which
surfaces after the game has finished. In no other sport can the
participants indulge in such vicious bodily contact, cause or
sustain an assortment of hurt and injury then, win or lose, join
the opponents in a convivial party to share an evening or rowdy
song and drink, even going so far as to pay for the enemy's beer.

Although the game of Rugby has often been described as unorgan-
ized mayhem, this description is only partially correct. It would
be more to the point to describe the game of Rugby as organized mayhem.

Rugby songs themselves are a traditional part of folklore and
each team member owes it to the team to learn them in order to
participate more fully in the sport. The passage below was taken
from the preface to the book, "Why was he Born so Beautiful and
Other Rugby Songs" by Michael Green, 1967. It more eloquently
describes the animal known as the "rugby song" and is reprinted here
without the permission of the publisher and in complete disregard
for copyright policies just as Michael Green did in compiling his
own book. It will serve as the introduction to the Pendleton RFC
OFFICIAL SONGBOOK and in turn as the last bit of sanity in an
otherwise happily insane collection of smut.

"It has often been said that what happens after a game of rugby
is more important then what happens of the field and the sing-song
is one of the chief post-match activities. Perhaps it is rather
stretching it to the word 'sing'. The noise which comes out
of a rugby clubhouse on Saturday night has little in common with
the work or Marie Callas and Benjamin Britten, although the dis-
sonant half-tones, like an elderly bagpipe exploding, which mark
attempts at harmony, might gladden the heart of a Kurdian shepherd."

"Yet the rugby song does have a crude sort of folk culture all of
its own. At its worst it is simply a bawdy chorus, a Chaucerian
obsession with the basic functions of the human body being the es-
sential linking theme of all good rugby songs. At its best it may
tell a moving story, make a pertinent social comment. Keir Hardie
himself could not have resisted the socialist appeal of "they're
digging up fathers grave to build a sewer." the story of an honest
British workman who was exhumed for the building of a scewer up to

(1)

"some dirty pesh's residence" and who retaliated by haunting the
aristocrat's lavetory seat. And his heart would be hard indeed
who was not moved by the tragety of Morphine Bill and Cocaine Sue
who after killing themselves with drugs (Honey have a sniff on me)
were buried side by side."-.

"Some rugby songs tell a narrative story of heroic proportions
in 'recitative', such as the famous "Eskimo Nell' or the witty story
of the incredible "Wild West Show". from which the Oozekum Bird has
passed into the language as a symbol of futility. Others like "Oh,
You Zulu Warriors' depend for their appeal on violent physical actions
by the participants, such as pouring beer over the singer. A large
section are derived from hymn tunes, and while they would scarely
be accepted by ecclesiastical authorities they have a grim attraction
of their own."

"Truly there is something for everybody, providing they can drink
enough beer to dull their finer senses. This volume itself could
serve as a treasure trove for the psycologist. The literature fills
a gap in English Literature (somewhere between Smellet and Henry
I think). I commend it to all rugby players who can read, while
even front-row forwards will enjoy having it spelled out for them".

Due to the length of this work and the skill (or lack thereof) of the
typist, there will be some typographical errors in you copy. Please
look upon these as lending aesthetic value to the work.

Signature
Bradley W. SHARP
Treasurer, Pendleton RFC
15 January 1981

END OF ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 17 Nov 01 - 12:13 AM

The cover page of the primary source

CAMP PENDLETON "GHOST RIDERS" RUGBY FOOTBALL CLUB
OFFICIAL SONG BOOK

(Second Edition)

Not copyrighted – 15 January 1981 by Pendleton RFC
No rights reserved. Any part of this work, considering there are
no copyrights, may be reproduced or copied in any form or by any means
graphic, electironic, or mechanical, including photocorpying, record-
ing taping, or information and retrieval systems - - without written
permission of the Pendleton RFC.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 17 Nov 01 - 12:08 AM

I am honored …..to have been thought …..to have ……met you. No doubt, the pleasure would have been mutual.

Unfortunately, I have not met you.

Equally unfortunate, is that I am not the "Songleader of the Long Beach Hash House Harriers."

No doubt…..to have earned his title…. he is a talented and tuneful fellow. Unfortunately, I am not…… all of my contributions to the DT are lyrical in nature.

However, I AM a "Hasher"…. but only newly arrived within the pack…..and not yet worthy of any title. Someday, perhaps, I will run with Long Beach H3 and meet the man/woman you admire.

Sincerely,

Gargoyle

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,Atalanta
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 07:29 AM

I know you! Aren't you the LongBeach Hash House Harriers songleader? I ran in your Sunday hash!!! Atalanta

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 04:20 AM

ALI BOOGIE
Tune - Like a Jump Rope Song

CHORUS:
I boogied last night,
And the night before,
I'm goin' back tonight,
And boogie some more.

Mama's on the bottom,
Papa's on the top,
Baby's in the attic,
Fillin' rubbers with snot.

Mama's on the bottom,
Papa's on the top,
Baby's in the cradle yellin',
"Shove it to 'er, Pop!"

Mama's in the hospital,
Papa's in jail,
Sister's in the corner cryin',
"Pussy for sale!"

I got a gal,
About six-foot four,
She fucks everything,
Like a two-bit whore.

I got a gal,
She lives on a hill,
She won't fuck,
But her sister will.

Papa's got a watch,
Mama's got a ring,
Sister's got a baby,
From shakin' that thing.

One and one makes two,
Two and two makes four,
If the bed breaks down,
We'll fuck on the floor.

Nappy, nappy hair
Eyes like a frog
Bend over baby
And I'll do you like a dog

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 04:12 AM

BYE BYE CHERRY
Melody - Bye Bye Blackbird

Back your ass against the wall,
Here I come, balls and all,
Bye, bye, cherry!
Won't your mother be disgusted,
When she finds your cherry's busted,
Bye, bye, cherry!
Wrap your legs around a little tighter,
I can feel my load is getting lighter,
Shake your ass and wiggle your tits,
Till my little pecker spits,
Cherry, bye bye!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 04:09 AM

CHAPPED HIDE
Melody - Rawhide

Ballin', ballin', ballin',
That boy he keeps on callin',
His crabs, they keep on crawlin',
Chapped hide!

You thought he was the right one,
But he was a one-night stand one,
He's shootin' blanks with his gun,
Chapped hide!

Pick him up, take him home,
ride him hard, make him moan!
Wake him up, saddle up, Send him home!
Chapped hide . . . Yee Haw!!

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 04:03 AM

GET IT UP, GET IT IN
Melody - Bonanza Theme

Get it up, get it in, get it out don't mess my hair do
You've got a dick but you should lick, move that tongue around
Hit the spot, make me hot
I will scream out loud

Get it up, get it in, get it out don't mess my hair do
You've got a dick but you should lick, move that tongue
around Suck my toes, insert your hose
Make my juices flow

Get it up, get it in, get it out don't mess my hair do
You've got a dick but you should lick, move that tongue around
When I am done and I have cum
We'll start another round

Get it up, get it in, get it out don't mess my hair do
You've got a dick but you should lick, move that tongue around

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 03:58 AM

HOT VAGINA
Tune - Yellow Rose of Texas

Hot vagina for your breakfast,
Hot vagina for your lunch,
Hot vagina for your dinner,
Just munch, munch, munch, munch, munch.
It's so speedy and nutritious,
Bite-size and ready to eat,
So take a tip, go eat your mom;
Hot vagina can't be beat.

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 14 Nov 01 - 03:51 AM

A "Football" song, but of the soccer variety, not folk but rock.

Three Lions ´98 Version
by Desperado

We still believe, we still believe
we still believe

It´s coming home,
It´s coming home, it´s coming
Football´s coming home

Tears for heroes dressed in grey
No plans for final day
Stay in bed, drift away
It could have been all
Songs in the street
It was nearly complete
It was nearly so sweet
And now I´m singing

Three lions on the shirt
Jules Rimet still gleaming
No more years of hurt
No more need for dreaming

Talk about football coming home
And then one night in Rome
We were strong, we had grown
And now I see Ince ready for war
Gazza good as before
Shearer ready to score
And Psycho screaming

Three lions on the shirt
Jules Rimet still gleaming
No more years of hurt
No more need for dreaming

We can dance Nobby´s dance
We could dance it in France

It´s coming home, it´s coming home,
Football´s coming home....

Subject: RE: Rugby Football Songs
From: GUEST,.gargoyle
Date: 12 Nov 01 - 11:52 PM

A man who kept stats in Katmandu for 17 years will be researching, in the meantime:

Talked to other friends tonight, they say you are probably looking for the pop-song "Hash Pipe" by Weezer. Weezer has sort of a folk feel, particularly their first big hit...The Sweater Song....but I must assure you...this has NOTHING to do with Rugby Football.

Sincerly, your most humble of servants Gargoyle.
BTW, you will get better responces for your song requests through the MudCat forum; my handlers only let me out of the cage at odd hours and on odd days.

Hash Pipe
By Weezer

I can't help my feelings, I'll go out of my mind
These players come to get me 'cause they'd like my behind
I can't love my business if I can't get a trick
Down on Santa Monica where tricks are for kids

Oh, come on and kick me
Oh, come on and kick me
Come on and kick me
You've got your problems
I've got my ass wide
You've got your big G's
I've got my hash pipe

I can't help my boogies they get out of control
I know that you don't care but I want you to know
The knee-stocking flavor is a favorite treat
Of men that don't bother with the taste of a teat

Oh, come on and kick me
Oh, come on and kick me
Come on and kick me
You've got your problems
I've got my ass wide
You've got your big G's
I've got my hash pipe
I've got my hash pipe

Oh, come on and kick me
Oh, come on and kick me
Come on and kick me
You've got your problems
I've got my ass wide
You've got your big G's
I've got my hash pipe
I've got my hash pipe

I've got my hash pipe
I've got my hash pipe