Lyr Req: The Rest of the Day's Your Own

Subject: Farmer's Boy? words
From:
Date: 09 Apr 98 - 11:34 AM

I'm looking for the words to a very funny song that is probably called "Farmer's Boy". The only clues I have at the moment are that the song consists of a long list of chores given to a lad wishing "to be a farmer's boy" which the lad fails to remember correctly (that's the funny bit).

There is a refrain that repeats the phrase "to be a farmer's boy" and at the end of the list of chores another refrain of "the rest of the day's your own". The list of chores includes things like "up at three before the down, milk the cow with the crumpled horn" and "shave the pig" and "teach the chickens how to lay".

I would be very grateful if somebody can point me towards the full yrics of this song.

Many thanks,

Peter.

Subject: RE: Farmer's Boy? words
From: Bruce O.
Date: 09 Apr 98 - 12:38 PM

A search on 'Farmer's Boy' turns up two versions in DT.

Subject: RE: Farmer's Boy? words
From: bigj
Date: 12 Apr 98 - 08:00 PM

The song you're looking for is called 'The Rest of the Day's Your Own' - try the DT

Subject: RE: Farmer's Boy? words
From: dick greenhaus
Date: 12 Apr 98 - 11:47 PM

bigj- The DT doesn't have that one. Could you post it? Thanx

Subject: RE: Farmer's Boy? words
From: bigj
Date: 13 Apr 98 - 07:06 PM

Here you are and welcome :-

THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN.
Written in 1915 by English music-hall performer Jack Lane.
This version comes from a 1972 recording by Bob Arnold who used to play Tom Forrest, the gamekeeper in the BBC radio series The Archers.

One day when I was out of work, a job I went to seek - To be a Farmer's Boy
At last I found an easy job at a half-a-crown a week - To be a Farmer's Boy.
The farmer says 'I think I've got the very job for you,
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do;
Rise at three every morn, milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pigs, clean the sty, teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the fields, mow the hay, help the cocks and the hens to lay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops, chase the fly from the turnip tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes, scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues,
Help the wife, empty the pots, grow the cabbages and shallots.
Make the bed, dust the coal, tune the gramophone,
Then if there's no more work to do - The rest of the day's your own.'

So I scratched my head, I thought it would be absolutely prime - To be a Farmer's Boy
The farmer says, 'Of course you'll have to do some overtime-When you're a Farmer's boy.
Said he, 'The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking out a few more things that you can do;
Skim the milk, make the cheese, chop the meat for the sausages,
Bath the kids, mend their clothes, use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk, shave the knobs off the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, rake the coal, take the cat for a midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs, teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread, shake the feathers up in the bed,
When the wife has got the gout, rub her funny-bone,
Then if there's nothing else to do - The rest of the day's your own.

I thought it was a shame to take his money, you can bet - For being a Farmer's Boy,
And so I wrote my duties down in case I should forget - That I was a Farmer's Boy.
I took all night to write them down, I didn't go to bed,
Somehow I got them all mixed up for this is how it read;
Rise at three every morn, milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day, teach the nanny-goat how to lay,
Shave the cat, tune the cheese, fit the tights on the sausages,
Bath the pigs, break the pots, beat the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread, put the cocks and the hens to bed,
Boots and shoes black with chalk, shave the hair on the pickled pork,
But all the rest I forgot, somehow it has flown,
But I got the sack this morning, so - The rest of my life's my own.

Subject: RE: Farmer's Boy? words
From: Bob Schwarer
Date: 14 Apr 98 - 01:20 PM

Try Ian Robb's "From Different Angels" CD for a nice version of this song.

Bob S.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN
From: wildlone
Date: 04 Dec 99 - 03:26 PM

A Music Hall song from the singing of Jack Lane 1915.


One day when I was out of work a job I went to seek,
To be a farmer's boy.
At last I found an easy job at half-a-crown a week,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "I think I've got the very job for you.
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do:

Rise at three every morn,
Milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pigs, clean the sty,
Teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the fields, mow the hay,
Help the cocks and hens to lay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops,
Chase the flies from the turnip tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes,
Scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues,
Help the wife wash the pots,
Grow the cabbages and carrots,
Make the beds, dust the coals, mend the gramophone,
And if there’s no more work to do, the rest of the day's your own."

I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely fine
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "Of course you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a farmers boy."
Said he: "The duties that I have given you you'll be quickly through,
So I’ve been thinking of a few more things that you can do:

Skim the milk, make the cheese,
Chop the meat for the sausage-es
Bath the kids, mend their clothes,
Use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk,
Shave the knobs of the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, break the coal,
Take the cat for his midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs,
Teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread,
Shake the feathers up in the bed,
When the wife has the gout, rub her funny bone,
And then if there’s no more work to do, the rest of the day's your own."

I thought is was a shame to take the money, you can bet,
To be a farmers boy,
And so I wrote my duties down in case I might forget.
I was a farmer's boy.
It took all night to write 'em down, didn't go to bed,
But somehow I got all mixed up and this is how they read:

Rise at three every morn,
Milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day,
Teach the nanny goat to lay,
Shave the cat, mend the cheese,
Fit the tights on the sausage-es,
Bath the pigs, break the pots,
Boil the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread,
Put the cocks and the hens to bed,
Boots and shoes, black with chalk,
Shave the hair on the pickled pork.
All the rest I forgot; somehow it had flown,
But I got the sack this morning so the rest of my life's my own.


Taken from the book "The Song and the Story: Songs of Isla St Clair.”

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Days Your Own
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 04 Dec 99 - 08:13 PM

Thanks - I've heard Isla sing it, and Cosmotheka as well do it beautifully. Should be in the Digital Tradition, and I imagine it soon will be now you've posted it - it'd make number 18 in the list of music hall songs in the DT. ("Browse by keywords" under Digitrad Links up at the top of the page).

But 18 only makes a tiny dent in the back catalogue of music hall songs, (and the best are definitely Public Domain by now). So does anyone know of a site with a more wideranging collection? There should be one - after all the best music hall songs are now in the public domain.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Days Your Own
From: dick greenhaus
Date: 05 Dec 99 - 08:12 PM

I'd put it in the Digital Tradition, but it's already there.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Days Your Own
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 05 Dec 99 - 09:13 PM

And of course it is, now I look - "it" normally is, I've found.

Where I went wrong this time was that with a keyword search on "musichall", it didn't show up. (No 4 entry is a blank, so maybe that's where it should be?)

Subject: Lyr Add: THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Dec 08 - 07:51 AM

These lyrics are from the sheet music at The National Library of Australia. Only a few words are different from the version posted above, but note that the songwriting credit is different. Also, I have formatted the lines to emphasize the rhyme, and I have indicated the comical pronunciation of carrots and sausagees.


THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN.
Words and music by Worton David and J. P. Long.
Sydney: J. Albert & Son, c1915.

1. One day when I was out of work, a job I went to seek,
To be a farmer's boy.
At last I found an easy job at a half-a-crown a week,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "I think I've got the very job for you.
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do:
Rise at three every morn,
Milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pigs, clean the sty,
Teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the fields, mow the hay,
Help the cocks and the hens to lay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops,
Chase the flies from the turnip-tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes,
Scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues,
Help the wife, empty the pots,
Grow the cabbages and carrots,
Make the beds, dust the coals,
Tune the gramophone,
And then if there's no more work to do,
The rest of the day's your own."

2. So I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely prime,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "Of course you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a farmer's boy."
Said he, "The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking of a few more things that you can do:
Skim the milk, make the cheese,
Chop the meat for the sausagees,
Bath the kids, mend their clothes,
Use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk,
Shave the knobs off the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, rake the coal,
Take the cat for his midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs,
Teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread,
Shake the feathers up in the bed,
When the wife's got the gout,
Rub her funny-bone,
And then if there's no more work to do,
The rest of the day's your own."

3. I thought it was a shame to take the money, you can bet,
To be a farmer's boy,
And so I wrote my duties down in case I should forget
I was a farmer's boy.
It took all night to write 'em down. I didn't go to bed,
But somehow I got all mixed up for this is how they read:
"Rise at three every morn,
Milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day,
Teach the nanny-goat how to lay,
Shave the cat, tune the cheese,
Fit the tights on the sausagees,
Bath the pigs, break the pots,
Boil the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread,
Put the cocks and the hens to bed,
Boots and shoes black with chalk,
Shave the hair on the pickled pork."
All the rest I forgot.
Somehow it has flown,
But I got the sack this morning,
So the rest of my life's my own.

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: GUEST,Fantum
Date: 02 Dec 08 - 08:24 AM

I learned this song years ago
It took me months to get it hammered in so I could just stand and sing it without worrying.
First performance and I lost the words and it just evaporated
I got back on track finished and went back to the practice

I have practiced this thing everlastingly since and used it perhaps 6 or 8 times and I have got it right only once or twice

Its a tough piece of work

Fantum

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 25 Nov 11 - 12:09 AM

Oxford University, the British Library, and the National Library of Australia have the sheet music, described thus:

THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN
Written and composed by Worton David and J.P. Long ; sung by Jack Lane.
London : Francis, Day & Hunter, ©1915.

First line: One day when I was out of work a job I went to seek.

[Note this contradicts the DT, which says Jack Lane wrote it.]

Subject: DT Corr: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: Joe Offer
Date: 25 Nov 11 - 01:13 AM

Jim, is the sheet music available for viewing?

There are two transcriptions in the Digital Tradition. I think this one is the better one: http://www.mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=6891 - filename[ RESTDAY

The one line I question is "tune the Gramophone" - "mend the Gramophone" from the other version makes more sense, and that's what's in the recording I found. Oh, and I think it should be "boil the kids" in the third verse.

The other transcription is almost the same, but has many more errors: http://www.mudcat.org/@displaysong.cfm?SongID=8434.

---

I found the song on a wonderful Musical Traditions CD, Just Another Saturday Night - Sussex 1960 (MT CD 309-10). Here are the lyrics and notes from the Musical Traditions Website, with my corrections and Digital Tradition formatting:

16 The Rest of the Day is Your Own (sung by Cyril Philips) (Roud 1485)
(Recorded on 18.2.60 at The Cherry Tree, Copthorne)

THE REST OF THE DAY IS YOUR OWN
(Worton David and J.P. Long)

One day when I was out of work a job I went to seek
To be a farmer's boy.
At last I found an easy job at half a crown a week,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "I think I got the very job for you.
Your duties will be light and this is all you'll have to do...

"Rise at three, every morn,
Milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pig, clean the sty,
Teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the field, mow the hay,
Help the cocks and hens to lay,
Sow the seeds, tend the crops,
Chase the flies from the turnip tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes,
Dust the kitchen and sweep the flue,
Help the wife, wash the pots,
Grow the cabbages and car-rots,
Make the beds, dust the coal,
Mend the gramophone...
Then, if there's no more work to do...
The rest of the day is your own."

I scratched me head and thought it would be absolutely prime
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said, "Of course, you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a farmer's boy."
Said he, "The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking up a few more jobs that you can do...

"Skim the milk, make the cheese,
Chop the meat for the sausage-ees,
Bath the kids, mend their clothes,
Use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk,
Shave the hairs on the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, rake the coal,
Take the cat for his midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs,
Teach the parrot to say his prayers,
When the wife's got the gout,
Rub her funny-bone...
Then, if there's no more work to do...
The rest of the day is your own."

I thought it was a shame to take the money, you can bet,
To be a farmer's boy,
And so I wrote me duties down In case I should forget
I was a farmer's boy.
It took all night to write them down—I didn't go to bed—
And somehow I've got all mixed up and this is how they read...

"Rise at three every morn,
Milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day,
Teach the nanny-goat how to lay,
Shave the cat, mend the cheese,
Fit the tights on the sausage-ees,
Bath the pigs, break the pots,
Boil the kids with a few car-rots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread,
Put the cocks and hens to bed,
Boots and shoes black with chalk,
Shave the knobs on the pickled pork...
All the rest I have forgot,
For somehow it has flown,
But I got the sack this morning so...
The rest of my life is my own.


Cyril considered this "the oldest song in my repertoire ... a song about a boy working on a farm. A man named Kemp Scott used to sing it at the village smoking concerts in the twenties. He was a good entertainer and I remember him from Eastbourne."

Of course, it's not old at all - as usually seems to be the case when a singer says something of this sort. It was written in 1915 by David & Long, and sung on the halls, and recorded, by Jack Lane - which is probably where Kemp Scott heard it. Jack Lane recorded this song on Regal-G7032 in 1915, but only two verses. Cyril's version is almost exactly the same as the sheet-music. The other side of Jack's record is Oh, Dear, What Can the Matter Be?

THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN
Written and composed by Worton David and J.P. Long; sung by Jack Lane.
London: Francis, Day & Hunter, ©1915.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: Joe Offer
Date: 25 Nov 11 - 01:57 AM

The Papers Past Website in New Zealand has a clipping of the lyrics to this song, published in the Otautau Standard and Wallace County Chronicle, Volume XIII, Issue 644, 9 October 1917, Page 1


The following is taken from "The Karere," or "The Message," compiled by members of the Twenty-eighth Reinforcements on their voyage home:

THE REST OF THE DAY'S YOUR OWN
or, A Farmer's Boy
(by Private F.N. Dickie)

One day when I was out of work, a job I went to seek
To be a farmer's boy.
At last I found an easy job at a half-a-crown a week,
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer said 'I think I've got the very job for you,
Your duties will be light, for this is all you've got to do:
(Chant)
Rise at three every morn,
Milk the cow with the crumpled horn;
Feed the pigs, clean the sty,
Teach the pigeons the way to fly;
Plough the fields, mow the hay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops,
Chase the flies from the turnip tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes,
Scrub the kitchen and clean the flues,
Help the wife wash the pots,
Grow the cabbages and carrots.
Make the beds, dust the coats,
Tune the gramophone -
And then if there's no more work to do,
The rest of the day's your own.'

I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely prime
To be a farmer's boy.
The farmer says, 'Of course you will have to do some overtime
When you're a farmer's boy.'
Said he, 'The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking of a few more things that you can do":
(Chant)
Skim the milk, make the cheese,
Chop the meat for the sausages,
Bath the kids, mend the clothes,
Use your dial to scare the crows;
In the milk put the chalk,
Shave the knobs off the pickled pork;
Shoe the horse, break the coal,
Take the cat for its midnight stroll;
Cook the food, scrub the stairs,
Teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread,
Shake the feathers up in the bed;
When the wife's got the gout,
Rub her funny-bone,
And then if there's no more work to do -
The rest of the day's your own.

I thought it was a shame to take his money, you can bet
To be a farmer's boy.
And so I wrote my duties down in case I should forget
I was a farmer's boy.
It took me all night to write them down, I didn't go to bed,
But somehow I got all mixed up, and this is how they read:
(Chant)
Rise at three every morn,
Milk the hen with the crumpled horn;
Scrub the wife every day,
Teach the nanny-goat how to lay;
Shave the cat, tune the cheese,
Fit the tights on the sausages;
Bath the pigs, break the pots,
Boil the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread,
Put the cocks and the hens to bed;
Boots and shoes, black with chalk,
Shave the hair off the pickled pork,
All the rest I've forgot,
Somehow it had flown,
But I got the sack this morning,
So the rest of my life's my own.


This version is almost the same as the RESTDAY version in the DT, but it fixes a number of problems I had with the DT lyrics.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: GUEST,Fantum
Date: 26 Nov 11 - 07:56 PM

Here are two sites with lyrics picked out of google.

[e-mail]

http://www.trasksdad.com/MusicHall

I to am on the lookout for music hall songs and I have had little luck with lyrics on the web. So McGrath of Harlow you are not alone in being puzzled as to where all this material is.

Fantum

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: GUEST
Date: 25 Oct 18 - 10:07 AM

This song, performed by Lee Nicholson and Naomi Randall, will be on the forthcoming Trevor Crozier tribute album to be released on the Epona Records label. Hopefully before Christmas 2018.
www.eponarecords.com

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: The Rest of the Day's Your Own
From: GUEST,Trevor-email to Joe Offer
Date: 17 Dec 18 - 04:47 PM

Hi Joe,
I'm always trawling the web looking for song lyrics, and I came across the lyrics to "The Rest of the Day's Your Own" on the Mudcat website. Unfortunately many song lyrics on the web have mistakes so I always try to cross-check several versions and find original scores where possible.
Even the frequency of a particular version of lyrics on the web isn't a guarantee of accuracy. For example, there is only one Welsh language version (I don't know why) of the famous Welsh song "Myfanwy" on dozens of websites, but I've never heard this version sung by a male voice choir and it isn't the version in the printed score.
To get back to "Rest of The Day", I don't want to be pedantic, but there are a lot of mistakes in the version on Mudcat and some of the lines don't even scan, so it wouldn't be much use to a singer.
I've attached what I believe is the original and correct version, taken from the musical score published by Francis, Day and Hunter in 1915. By the way although the song was performed by Jack Lane, it was actually written by Worton David and J. P. Long.

You can also find this score in "The Bumper Book of Music Hall Songs" published by Faber Music Ltd, which is still in print.
Regards,
Trevor.

THE REST OF THE DAY’S YOUR OWN

One day when I was out of work, a job I went to seek,
To be a Farmer's Boy.
At last I found an easy job at a half-a-crown a week -
To be a Farmer's Boy.
The farmer said ‘I think I've got the very job for you,
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do;
Rise at three every morn, milk the cow with the crumpled horn,
Feed the pigs, clean the sty, teach the pigeons the way to fly,
Plough the fields, mow the hay, help the cocks and the hens to lay,
Sow the seed, tend the crops, chase the flies from the turnip tops,
Clean the knives, black the shoes, scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues,
Help the wife, wash the pots, grow the cabbages and carrots.
Make the beds, dust the coals, mend the gramophone,
And then if there's no more work to do - The rest of the day's your own.'

I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely prime
To be a Farmer's Boy.
The farmer said, 'Of course you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a Farmer's boy.
Said he, 'The duties that I've given you, you'll be quickly through,
So I've been thinking out a few more things that you can do;
Skim the milk, make the cheese, chop the meat for the sausages,
Bath the kids, mend their clothes, use your dial to scare the crows,
In the milk put the chalk, shave the knobs off the pickled pork,
Shoe the horse, break the coal, take the cat for his midnight stroll,
Cook the food, scrub the stairs, teach the parrot to say his prayers,
Roast the joint, bake the bread, shake the feathers up in the bed,
When the wife’s got the gout, rub her funny-bone,
And then if there's no more work to do - The rest of the day's your own.

I thought it was a shame to take the money, you can bet,
To be a Farmer's Boy.
And so I wrote my duties down in case I should forget
I was a Farmer's Boy.
It took all night to write 'em down, I didn't go to bed,
But somehow they got all mixed up and this is how they read;
Rise at three every morn, milk the hen with the crumpled horn,
Scrub the wife every day, teach the nanny-goat how to lay,
Shave the cat, mend the cheese, fit the tights on the sausages,
Bath the pigs, break the pots, boil the kids with a few carrots,
Roast the horse, dust the bread, put the cocks and the hens to bed,
Boots and shoes black with chalk, shave the hair on the pickled pork,
All the rest I forgot, somehow it has flown,
But I got the sack this morning, so - The rest of my life's my own.