I drove my tractor through yer haystack last night, (ooh ar, ooh ar) I threw me pitchfork at yer dog to keep quiet, (ooh ar, ooh ar) Now something’s tellin’ me that you’m avoidin’ me, (ooh ar, ooh ar) Come on now darlin’ you’ve got somethin’ I need. ‘Cos I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. Come on now let’s get together in perfect harmony. I got twenty acres, an’ you got forty-three. Now I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n I’ll give you the key. I’ll stick by you, I’ll give ye all that you need, (ooh ar, ooh ar) We’ll have twins ‘n’ triplets, I’m a man built for speed, (ooh ar, ooh ar) And you know I’ll love you darlin’ so give me yer hand, (ooh ar, ooh ar) The thing I want the most is all they acres of land ‘Cos I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. Come on now let’s get together in perfect harmony. I got twenty acres, an’ you got forty-three. Now I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. For seven long years I’ve been alone in this place, (ooh ar, ooh ar) Pigs sleep in the kitchen; it’s a proper disgrace! (ooh ar, ooh ar) Now if I cleaned it up, would you change yer mind? I’ll give up drinkin’ scrumpy and that lager and lime. ‘Cos I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. Come on now let’s get together in perfect harmony. I got twenty acres, an’ you got forty-three. Now I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. Wun’t we a grand couple at that last wurzel dance, I wore bran’ new gaiters and me corduroy pants In your new Sunday Dress, with yer perfume smellin’ grand We had our photos took ‘n’ us holdin’ hands. Now I got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n’ I’ll give you the key. Now that we’re both passed our fifties, I think that you an’ me, Should stop this gallivantin’ and will you marry me? ‘Cos I’ve got a brand new combine harvester, ‘n I’ll give you the key. (Ar yer a fine lookin’ woman, and I can’t wait to get me hands on yer land!)

Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy. When I were just a babe in arms, me mam here I did throttle, ‘Cos I cried at night ‘till she put zider in me bottle. Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy. When I was just a kid at school, I were a proper rascal, (were ‘n all) I threw away me books to get more zider in me satchel. Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy. Remember on our wedding day, standin’ ‘fore the vicar, He joined us as both man and wife, then joined us in the liquor. Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy. Now our five kids can’t keep their hands (five kids!) off that bottle stopper, They have their pint four times a day, we brings them up real proper. Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy. Drink, drink, thee zider up, that’s what me old man taught me, Son if thees drink enough, it’ll make thee cheeks go rosy.

I was bought up on scrumpy cider, And I be seventy-two. If you think that ain't bad, then ask me Mam and Dad ‘Cos they – wuz brought up on cider too! Granddad works for a living, He's part of the Carnival Crew They pays him in flagons, for building their dragons And he – loves his cider too. Great-granddad, he’s getting married, To young Daisy over in Chew So happy and gay, they’re doing it in May 'Cause that's – that’s when the baby’s due! Now cider, it be good for you; With it you’ll never stop Ingredients so pure and true; It is – the cream of the crop. Great-great Grandpa works in the orchard, He presses a cider so true And his old man survivzes, down there in Devizes And he – loves his Cider too. Now cider, it be good for you; With it you’ll never stop Ingredients so pure and true; It is – the cream of the crop Our cousin lives up in London, He says that cider is weak He’s never had a drop, He’s got the taste for hops But they – bury him next week. Now cider, it be good for you; Now let’s just make it clear Ingredients so pure and true; You’ll last – longer than on Beer. Now cider, it be good for you; With it you’ll never stop Ingredients so pure and true; You’ll – always be on top.

When I were a lad I were so glad to go out in the daytime, with me fork and a bottle and a cork to help out in the hay time. While tossin’ hay upon the mow, met young Lucy Bailey, I said my dear are you often here, she said yes sir twice daily. We had such fun in the summer sun, Lucy were so thrillin’, sweet and pure but I weren’t sure, that young maid were willin’. ‘till one day among the hay we was workin’ gaily, she ups and slips, zummut rips, I went there twice daily! She said dear, I do feel queer, think I ought to tell ‘ee. Tain’t new bread, she sadly said a-swellin’ up me belly! Told her go to Dr. Joe, off she went so gaily. He gave her a dollop of gert big jollup and said take this twice daily. (’orrible stuff ‘twer!) Now Lucy’s dad were very mad, chased I round the haymow. Said my son you’ve had your fun, the time has come to pay now. My girl you’ll wed, the old man said as he waived his shotgun gaily. If you’d only said, I’d put some lead, and you won’t go there twice daily! (ooh painful that!) Well the very-next day in the month of May, held the ceremony. Paid off the Vicar with a gallon of liquor, rode to Church on a pony, and the village folks from miles around waived and shouted gaily: There’s no doubt you’ll get caught out if you go there twice daily! Now to Lucy’s joy she had a boy, what a little darlin’. Round and fat as a Cheshire cat, perky as a starlin’. Skin were smooth as a cider jar and they called ‘n’ Buster Bailey. Fed ‘n on Swedes and charlock weeds and a pint o’ scrump’ twice daily. (fat little *** he were too!) Now weem old our story’s told, been forty years together. And we often stray where we tossed the hay in that old-time summer weather. Kids we got full ten ‘r more, we goes on quite gaily. ‘Though I’m old and grey, when I gets me way (aah!) I still goes there twice daily!

Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling is all I crave. Fill me up with Chitterling, think of all the cash you’ll save! You can do Irish stew, Cordon bleu. Stuff it where you stuff your fancy soups. You can buy it soft or hard, by the pound or by the yard, Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops. v1 Back in Queen Victoria’s time they held a grand affair. A really royal spree, at the Russian Embassy. Albert and Victoria they went there for the ride, Thinking it a change from toast for tea. Her Majesty was not amused, when right in-front the Tzar, Albert laughed and his false teeth shot out! And as they fell into a bucket full of caviar, The Royal Consort, he began to shout: Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling is all I crave. Fill me up with Chitterling, think of all the cash you’ll save! You can do Irish stew, Cordon bleu. Stuff it where you stuff your fancy soups. You can buy it soft or hard, by the pound or by the yard, Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops. v2 When Willy Shakespeare wrote his famous Taming of the Shrew, He couldn’t sleep at night, stayed awake by candlelight, He chewed his pen and burnt the midnight-oil to no avail, For nought could save him from his sorry plight. When suddenly he heard a knock when going to retire, It was his sweetheart Annie Hathaway. “Oh Will”, she said, “I’ve come to give you all that you desire” And Willie’s eye lit up as ‘ee did say: Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling is all I crave. Fill me up with Chitterling, think of all the cash you’ll save! You can do Irish stew, Cordon bleu. Stuff it where you stuff your fancy soups. You can buy it soft or hard, by the pound or by the yard, Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops. v3 On the fifth day of November back in sixteen hundred and five, A stealthy figure went to the House of Parliament. Beneath his cloak he carried a great barrel in his hand. It was Guy Fawkes that night on mischief bent. (hisses) A soldier of the Royal Guard said “oh what’s this here?” Spying of the barrel ‘neath his cloak. “Pray tell me sire, what’s in that cask, I’m sure it can’t be beer!”, Old Guy took off his hat and softly spoke: (sotto) Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling is all I crave. Fill me up with Chitterling, think of all the cash you’ll save! You can do Irish stew, Cordon bleu. Stuff it where you stuff your fancy soups. You can buy it soft or hard, by the pound or by the yard, Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops. Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling, Chitterling is all I crave. Fill me up with Chitterling, think of all the cash you’ll save! You can do Irish stew, Cordon bleu. Stuff it where you stuff your fancy soups. You can buy it soft or hard, by the pound or by the yard, Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops. Chitterling’s the stuff to give the troops.

Now old Jolly Jack was a hard workin’ chap, And he longed for a chance to be free. Stuck a pin in a map as it lay on his lap, And he stuck it in gay Paree, It were quite by chance that he’d heard of France, ‘Cos he’d never been away before, He was straight off the boat with his ten-bob note, When his heart fell through the floor. Oh I’ll never get a scrumpy here, no I’ll never get a nice wild beer, Give me England every time my dear, ‘Cos you’ll never get surprises living in Devizes. How ever hard I bloomin’ try, seems I’ll never get a hot meat pie, In old Summerset’s where I’ll lie when I die-hi-hi-hi-hi. Well he made his way in complete dismay, Where the lights were shinin’ bright, And standin’ there was a girl so fair, And she asked him for a light, Put his hand in his pocket, and it felt like a rocket, It was growing in his hand like a flame So he pulled it out, and she gave a shout “Et vous chicken?” No, I’m game! Oh I’ll never get a scrumpy here, no I’ll never get a nice wild beer, Give me England every time my dear, ‘Cos you’ll never get surprises living in Devizes. How ever hard I bloomin’ try, seems I’ll never get a hot meat pie, In old Summerset’s where I’ll lie when I die-hi-hi-hi-hi. Oh I’ll never get a scrumpy here, no I’ll never get a nice wild beer, Give me England every time my dear, ‘Cos you’ll never get surprises living in Devizes. How ever hard I bloomin’ try, seems I’ll never get a hot meat pie, In old Summerset’s where I’ll lie when I die-hi-hi-hi-hi. Oh I’ll never get a scrumpy here, no I’ll never get a nice wild beer, Give me England every time my dear, ‘Cos you’ll never get surprises living in Devizes. How ever hard I bloomin’ try, seems I’ll never get a hot meat pie, In old Summerset’s where I’ll lie when I die-hi-hi-hi-hi.

As I was walking out one day, A pretty maid did glance my way, Soon we’z rolling in the hay, Down in the Valleys. Now, she can’t write and she can’t read, But she knows ’bout the birds and bees, I know that ‘cause she taught me, Down in the Valleys. [chorus] She’s a Valleys Girl, She’s a Valleys Girl, Gloucestershire lass. She comes from Stroud, And I be proud, Seem to be, She fancies me! She’s a Gloucestershire lass. We sat ‘neath an apple tree, I kissed her and she kissed me, That’s the way ‘tis meant to be, Down in the Valleys. Now she said we was over-dressed, So I stripped off my string vest, You can guess what happened next, Down in the Valleys. [rpt chorus] Now, she said she was getting plump, Think I got her ‘up the Clump’, Her dad fetched me quite a thump, Down in the Valley. So, we wuz married pretty soon, Wedding feast by summer moon, Then we spend our honeymoon, Down in the Valleys. [rpt chorus] She’s a Valleys Girl, She’s a Valleys Girl, A Gloucestershire lass. She comes from Stroud, And I be proud, Seem to be, She’s married me! She’s my Gloucestershire lass.

When the nights are dark and stormy, and the bitter north wind blows, Cross the fields from Shirehampton where the muddy Avon flows, Where the Pillates gaily ride, over on the ferry from the other side, The boat starts swinging, you’ll hear them singing floating on the tide. Pill, Pill, I love thee still, even though I’m leavin’, Pill, Pill, I love thee still, when the ferry boat starts heavin’. When the rain down pours, the thunder roars, lightning flashes bright, I’d be better by far in The Duke or The Star, Than on the old Pill Ferry tonight. Take me where it’s warm and cosy, down there with those happy boys, Where the cheeks are red and rosy, cobblers, hobblers, hobeldy-hoys. When the stinging winter sleet creeps along the riverside and chills your feet, For miles around, you’ll hear this sound, coming down Pill Street. Pill, Pill, I love thee still, even though I’m leavin’, Pill, Pill, I love thee still, when the ferryboat starts heavin’. When the rain down-pours, the thunder roars, lightning flashes bright, I’d be better by far in The Duke or The Star, Than on the old Pill Ferry tonight. O’er the seven seas I’ve wandered, back to Pill I shall return, When my hard-earned cash is squandered, for the village lads I’ll yearn. Captain, Captain carry me, steam her up the channel past Portbury, Head her south, through Avonmouth, happy I shall be. Pill, Pill, I love thee still, even though I’m leavin’, Pill, Pill, I love thee still, when the ferryboat starts heavin’. When the rain down-pours, the thunder roars, lightning flashes bright, I’d be better by far in The Duke or The Star, than on the old Pill Ferry tonight. Pill, Pill, I love thee still, even though I’m leavin’, Pill, Pill, I love thee still, when the ferryboat starts heavin’. When the rain down-pours, the thunder roars, lightning flashes bright, I’d be better by far in The Duke or The Star, than on the old Pill Ferry tonight.

Never been to school, I’ve never been to college, Sooner be dead than stuff me head with a load of useless knowledge. I never couldn’t, see no point in history. ‘Cos I weren’t there, so I don’t care, so don’t tell I, tell ‘ee! Don’t tell I, tell ‘ee, that’s my philosophy, When folks do cuss and start a fuss, don’t tell I, tell ‘ee. Young Sarah Jones one day, got in the family way, Her father come, wi’ a gert big gun, said ‘ee you’ll have to pay. He chased I up a tree, I ‘ollered leave I be. I happen to know, ‘twere old Fred Snow, so don’t blame I, blame ‘ee. Don’t tell I, tell ‘ee, that’s my philosophy, When folks do swear and tear their hair, don’t tell I, tell ‘ee. I took a ride one night, a P.C. hove in sight. He made it up, because I got no brakes, no bell, no light. I’ll sling the book at ‘ee, that copper said with glee. I said, sling all you like, ‘tis your dad’s bike, so don’t tell I, tell ‘ee. Don’t tell I, tell ‘ee, that’s my philosophy, When folks do fuss and start to cuss, don’t tell I, tell ‘ee. I got a lift to town, from good-old Farmer Brown, In a ten-ton-truck, wi’ a load of muck, when he set us down. A drink we did agree, it would be good for we. The barmaid Rose, she held ‘er nose, I said, don’t smell I, smell ‘ee. Don’t tell I, tell ‘ee, that’s my philosophy, When folks do swear and tear their hair, don’t tell I, tell ‘ee. The Vicar came along, he said “you know ‘tis wrong. You gets tight on a Friday night”. I answered: ’ere ale’s strong. Now Parson you’ll agree, the Lord created me, And I’m afraid, ‘tis how I’m made, so don’t tell I, tell ‘ee!

I’m a wise old Owl, and I lives in a tree, and there’s nowt goes by that I don’t see, ‘Cos I got me beady little eye on thee. I got me beady little eye on thee, I’m up here in the branches of a tall oak tree, There’s nothin’ passes by, that plainly I don’t see, ‘Cos I got me beady little eye on thee. Now Ernie’s he’s our milkman and he comes around at seven, ‘ee’s a proper Casanova, thinks that he was sent from Heaven. Those unsuspecting husbands, when they’re off to work can’t see, Old Ernie’s after more than just his morning cup of tea. (Ho, ho! - He ain’t half as thick as his cream!) I got me beady little eye on thee, I’m up here in the branches of a tall oak tree, There’s nothin’ passes by, that plainly I don’t see, ‘Cos I got me beady little eye on thee. Now Mr. Smith, he caught the baker hidin’ in the loo. He said, your wife’s so very kind, I didn’t know what to do. Just one more kindness, could I ask – and the baker went quite red. Could you fetch my shoes and socks, I left them by your bed. (I think ‘ee dropped a bit of a bloomer there!) I got me beady little eye on thee, I’m up here in the branches of a tall oak tree, There’s nothin’ passes by, that plainly I don’t see, ‘Cos I got me beady little eye on thee. Young Mrs. Jones in number three sings with the Chapel choir, She sings a deep contralto, ‘cos her voice won’t go no higher. Last week the plumber made a call as he was passin’ by. Now all the neighbours are amazed, ‘cos her voice it sounds so high! (Ah, ha! - many a good tune’s been played on an old ball-cock.) I got me beady little eye on thee, I’m up here in the branches of a tall oak tree, There’s nothin’ passes by, that plainly I don’t see, ‘Cos I got me beady little eye on thee. I got me – I got me beady little eye on thee, (I got me beady little eye on thee)

Wish I were back on the farm, oh I wish I were back on the farm, If you wanna learn your lesson, then hear what I’m confessin’, Oh I wish I were back on the farm. Now I was just a hay-seed wi’ a straw stuck in me mouth, I packed me bag and took a train that were headin’ for the south. I wandered through the city streets, ‘cos everything were new. But all the coppers moved me on, and the girls they moved me too! Oh I wish I were back on the farm, wish I were back on the farm, Where the bulls don’t put it over, and the cows stay in the clover, Oh I wish I were back on the farm. A pretty girl came up to I, we began to chat, She said she’d give me zummut nice if I went to ‘er flat. I said I’d like a cup of tea, she seemed to think it odd. For just when it was time to go, she charged I thirty-bob! Oh I wish I were back on the farm, I wish I were back on the farm, Where there’s fun, and plenty of it, and it isn’t done for profit, Oh I wish I were back on the farm. Now I went into a nightclub, where a lady did a dance, She’d nothing on but Pigeons, and the rest she left to chance. She didn’t seem to find the cold, the birds knew where to stay. I clapped me hands and hollered out, but they would not fly away! Oh I wish she were back on the farm, now I wish she were back on the farm, She’d have nothing on whatever, ‘cos our Pigeons ain’t so clever, Oh I wish she were back on the farm. She’d have nothing on whatever, ‘cos our Pigeons ain’t so clever, Oh I wish she were back on the farm.

One sunny morning I was out there workin’ on me farm, Me ol’ mate ‘Arry spoke to me; he caused me some alarm. The thing that what ‘ee ‘ad to tell, it caused me some dismay, I ‘ad to throw me pitchfork down and up and run away… He said: You’re never more that 9-yard from a Rat, You’re never more that 9-yard from a Rat. When you’re out there in the ‘taters, They’ll start runnin’ up y’r gaitors! Oh, you’re never more that 9-yard from a Rat! I jumped into me harvester, to contemplate me fate I thought I’d put me radio on to try and calm me state. The fellow on me wireless, he cut me to the core, Rat populations on the rise, they’re getting more and more... Now, you’re never more that 6-yard from a Rat, You’re never more that 6-yard from a Rat. Despite that what we’m tryin’, They’re always multiplyin’! You’re never more that 6-yard from a Rat! I rushed down to the village pub ‘cos things was getting worse, I opened up the newspaper to see chapter and verse, My eyes fell on an article; it was such a to-do, When liftin’ up ‘is toilet seat – a Squirrel in the loo! Oh, you’re never more that 4-foot from a Rat, You’re never more that 4-foot from a Rat. It do really make me pale, A Rat with a fluffy tail! Oh, you’re never more that 4-foot from a Rat! I went up to the Barmaid there, I needed some escape, I thought I’d try and chat ‘er up, and ask ‘er for a date. The thing that what she said to me, it cut me to the quick She said I’d better ask me wife, and called me a great - pillock! She said: I’m never more than 2 foot from a rat! I’m never more that 2-foot from a Rat. When I’m up there fillin’ tumblers, There’s nowt worse than they punters! Oh, I’m never more that 2-foot from a Rat! She’s never more than 2-foot from a rat! She’s never more that 2-foot from a Rat. When She’s up there fillin’ tankards, There’s nowt worse than they - idiots! Oh, She’s never more that 2-foot from a Rat! – They’re on the increase! She’s never more that 2-foot from a Rat! – She’ll call the landlord! You’re never more that 2-foot from a Rat!

Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, cover it well with yer palm, Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, and Molly will come to no harm. When Molly began to go cour’in’, her Mother was anxious to tell, How certain young fellows would want her to stray down the pathway to hell. So Molly’s old Ma used to sing: Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, cover it well with yer palm Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, and Molly will come to no harm. They’ll hug you and kiss you so sweetly, make you feel ever so nice, But handle the fellows discretely, and follow this simple advice. And follow this simple advice: Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, cover it well with yer palm Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, and Molly will come to no harm. Now Molly and me went out courtin’, I told her she’d nothin’ to fear, But down in the meadow last Sunday, I whispered these words in her ear: Take yer ‘and off yer ‘alfpenny, look into me bonny-blue eyes, Take yer ‘and off yer ‘alfpenny, I’ll give you a lovely surprise! Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, cover it well with yer palm Keep yer ‘and on yer ‘alfpenny, and Molly will come to no harm. And Molly will come to no harm. And Molly will come to no harm.

Drink up thee zider George, pass us round the mug. Drink up thee zider George, garden’s ver’ nigh dug. Thy cheek’s been getting’ redder, from Charterhouse to Chedder, There’s still more zider in the jug! Drink up thee zider, drink up thee zider, for tonight we’ll merry be! We’ve knocked the milk churns over, and rolled ‘em in the clover, Oh the corn’s half-cut and so be we! Drink up thee zider George, bissn’t goin’ far. Drink up thee zider George, ‘s getting’ quite a star. Thee’s goin’ where the ‘taters ‘n’ half-way up yer gaitors, There’s still more zider in the jar! Drink up thee zider, drink up thee zider, for tonight we’ll merry be! We’ve knocked the milk churns over, and rolled ‘em in the clover, Oh the corn’s half-cut and so be we! Drink up thee zider George, get up off thick mat! Drink up thee zider George, put on thy gert big hat. Weem of to Barrow Gurney for to see my brother Ernie, There’s still more zider in the vat! Drink up thee zider, drink up thee zider, for tonight we’ll merry be! We’ve knocked the milk churns over, and rolled ‘em in the clover, Oh the corn’s half-cut and so be we! Drink up thee zider George, time we had a rest. Drink up thee zider George, finest ever pressed. There’s nothin’ like good zider to make yer smile grow wider, There’s still more zider in the west! Drink up thee zider, drink up thee zider, for tonight we’ll merry be! We’ve knocked the milk churns over, and rolled ‘em in the clover, Oh the corn’s half-cut and so be we! (one more time!) Drink up thee zider, drink up thee zider, for tonight we’ll merry be! We’ve knocked the milk churns over, and rolled ‘em in the clover, (slow) Oh the corn’s half-cut and so be we! And so be we!

Down on the farm I don’t need no alarm, I rise from me bed at five-thirty, ‘Round six-o-clock, I puts on me smock, I’m feelin’ like Burlington Burtie. Out in the pen there’s a broody old hen, She is as wild as a tiger, You try and touch her egg, And she’ll bite off yer leg, I feeds her on faggots and cider! La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, They call me farmer bill’s cowman. La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, I’m proud to be Farmer Bill’s cowman. I work very hard, out in the yard Squelchin’ around in the muck sir! A drink every night, plays tricks with me sight, I can’t tell a drake from a duck sir! I felt such a fool, tried milking the bull! He must have enjoyed it somehow man. Now every day at three, he comes and says “I’m free”, That’s why I’m Farmer Bill’s cowman. La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, They call me farmer bill’s cowman. La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, I’m proud to be Farmer Bill’s cowman. Day after day, I labour away, As work in the cowshed keeps pilin’. With shovel and stick, I lays it on thick, In spite of the sight I keep smilin’. It were love at first sight, I loved her all-right, But she were engaged to the ploughman. Now I’m her debonair Somerset millionaire, I’m only Farmer Bill’s cowman! La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, They call me farmer bill’s cowman. La, la, la, la, ooh ar, oh aar, aa, I’m proud to be Farmer Bill’s cowman.

When the moon shines on the cow-shed, And we’re rollin’ in the hay, All the cows are out there grazin’, And the milk is on its way. I am a cider drinker, I drinks it all of the day. I am a cider drinker, it soothes all me troubles away. Ooh ar, ooh ar ay, ooh ar, ooh ar ay. It’s so cosy in the kitchen, with the smell o’ rabbit stew. When the breeze blows ‘cross the farmyard, You can smell the cow-shed too! When those combine wheels stops turnin’ and the hard days work is done, There’s a pub around the corner, it’s the place we have our fun. I am a cider drinker, I drinks it all of the day. I am a cider drinker, it soothes all me troubles away. Ooh ar, ooh ar ay, ooh ar, ooh ar ay. Now dear old Mabel when she’s able, we takes a stroll down Lovers Lane, And we’ll sink a pint of scrumpy, then we’ll play all nature’s games! But we end up in the duck pond, when the Pub decides to close. With me britches full o’ tadpoles, and the newts between me toes. I am a cider drinker, I drinks it all of the day. I am a cider drinker, it soothes all me troubles away. Ooh ar, ooh ar ay, ooh ar, ooh ar ay. I am a cider drinker, I drinks it all of the day. I am a cider drinker, it soothes all me troubles away. Ooh ar, ooh ar ay, ooh ar, ooh ar ay. Let cider be the spice of life! Ha ha!

Where be thick blackbird to, I know where ‘ee be! ‘ee be up yon wurzel tree and I be after ‘ee. Now I seez ‘ee, an’ ‘ee seez I, bugger’d if I don’t get ‘n! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! (Na, na na na na na, Na na na na na na, How’s thee father? – All right!) v1 All me life I man the farm, workin’ for me keep, Tendin’ pigs and chickens, and they cows and sheep. But everywhere I’m workin’ there’s one who always mocks me, ‘Ee’s hidin’ somewhere in the trees, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! Where be thick blackbird to, I know where ‘ee be! ‘ee be up yon wurzel tree and I be after ‘ee. Now I seez ‘ee, an’ ‘ee seez I, bugger’d if I don’t get ‘n! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! (Na, na na na na na, Na na na na na na, How’s thee father? – All right!) v2 Underneath the open sky in spring we loves to dine, We likes to hear the flappin’ of the missus washing line. We listens to a tuneful song, a blackbird or a tit, But on me vest and underpants he’s scored aa direct hit! Where be thick blackbird to, I know where ‘ee be! ‘ee be up yon wurzel tree and I be after ‘ee. Now I seez ‘ee, an’ ‘ee seez I, bugger’d if I don’t get ‘n! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! (Na, na na na na na, Na na na na na na, How’s thee father? – All right! v3 If I goes out poachin’, a-creepin’ through the fields, With me old retriever a-followin’ at me heels. If I aim me shotgun at a pheasant in the hay, That bloody blackbird starts ‘is row and frightens them away! Where be thick blackbird to, I know where ‘ee be! ‘ee be up yon wurzel tree and I be after ‘ee. Now I seez ‘ee, an’ ‘ee seez I, bugger’d if I don’t get ‘n! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! (Na, na na na na na, Na na na na na na, How’s thee father? – All right!) v4 No longer can I sleep at night, get peace of any kind. That bird ‘ll be the death of me, he’s prayin’ on me mind. If I chase him long enough, I’ll get ‘n bye and bye, And celebrate me vict’ry with a gert big blackbird pie! Where be thick blackbird to, I know where ‘ee be! ‘ee be up yon wurzel tree and I be after ‘ee. Now I seez ‘ee, an’ ‘ee seez I, bugger’d if I don’t get ‘n! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! With a gert big stick I’ll nock ‘n down, Blackbird I’ll ‘ave ‘ee! (Na, na na na na na, Na na na na na na, How’s thee father? – All right!)

They’m big and round, grow in the ground, But in the shops none will be found. You’d get ‘em cheaper by the pound, they’m called the Mangold – Wurzels. They feed ‘em to they pigs and sheep, In best of health it does ‘em keep, Not for the likes of you and me, they’m called the Mangold – Wurzels. Now Wurzel Gummage on T.V., Could change ‘is ‘ead quite easily, A turnip? – No, I disagree; it is a Mangold – Wurzel! Now weem a band you’ve come to see, The likes of ‘im and ‘im and me! We’re very glad you’ve stayed – ‘cos we are called the Mangled – Wurzels. We ain’t that pretty with good looks, Use words that don’t appear in books, We try and write songs with good hooks; that end in Mangold – Wurzel! ‘Cos we’re the Mangled – Wurzels. We’em called the Mangled – Wurzels.

[chorus] Oh, I can’t read and I can’t write But it don’t really matter Coz I comes from Somerset And I can drive a tractor When I was a babby, They sent me off to school Teacher didn’t like I, She said I was a fool Thought of adding numbers up, Filled me with alarm I spent all my school days, A-working on the farm…ooooooh... [chorus] I was courting Mary Jane, Oh what fun we had Things got rather serious, I met her mam and dad Asked me what my prospects were, Made I got quite red A doctor or a lawyer p’raps? This is what I said… ooooooh... [chorus] Went down for an interview, Down at Bath & West Lots of toffs in shirts and ties, All trying to impress Gaffer took one look at them, Sent them on their way I ain’t got no A levels, But I can level hay… ooooooh... [chorus] Went down to old London Town, Streets are paved with gold Met some dodgy geezer, Who promised me a load Had some contract I should read, Took me to his boss Didn’t seem too happy, When I signed it with a cross… ooooooh... [chorus]