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22 Aug 07 - 06:37 AM (#2130972) Subject: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns From: GUEST,edthefolkie 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 |
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22 Aug 07 - 11:53 AM (#2131160) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns From: nickp SOunds like it should be Les Barker but that's a complete guess. |
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22 Aug 07 - 12:11 PM (#2131171) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns From: manitas_at_work 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. |
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22 Aug 07 - 03:38 PM (#2131381) Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Send In The Browns From: Geordie-Peorgie 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 |