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Silly Rhymes.

This is one I came across in the early 60s in a school library (Bordesley Green Tech.) book of comic verse; it’s one of my many, many favourites:
The Pig
It was an evening in November,
As I very well remember,
I was strolling down the street in drunken pride,
But my knees were all a-flutter,
And I landed in the gutter
And a pig came up and lay down by my side.

Yes, I lay there in the gutter
Thinking thoughts I could not utter,
When a colleen passing by did softly say
“You can tell a man who boozes
By the company he chooses” —
And the pig got up and slowly walked away.

The poem is believed to be anonymous.
However, in 1933, Benjamin Hapgood Burt is credited with having written a song entitled "The Pig Got Up and Slowly Walked Away" which is very, very similar. Apparently he made a number of small changes to the original lines. The copywrite to the song is held by one, T. Bruce Tober since 1999.

David
 
Nice one, David! There are many versions of "The Pig" lyrics on the internet, and quite a few YouTube video clips of performances of the 1933 "temperance" song. Here is a version by American singer and songwriter Frank Crumit (1889-1943):

[video=youtube;NOWYNJTFsvs]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NOWYNJTFsvs[/video]
 
As we sat just in the glow of the coal fire (i would have been about 4) mum recited the following little pem....

About Willie with the bright red sashes
Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes
Even tho the room grows chilly
We haven,t the heart to poke poor Willie.
 
Does anyone remember Little Tommy Tucker and Little Tommy Stout only that is all I can remember?. Jean.
 
''I sailed HMS's cutter al'through yon bloody war
now a'hm lyin in't gutter, wi ma face dint t'floor.
Ma purse be empty, ma shoon be torn n' broke
ma life be rent assunder, an a'hm fair fit t'croak!''

There's more to it, but I can't remember the rest; does anyone know it?

I believe it refers to the condition of sailors, 'demobbed', after the Napoleonic War. My grandmother used to recite this at Christmas, in a vaguelly 'north-country' accent, whilst wearing a pair of heavy, black 'comic' spectacles with a nose and moustache attached! It used to scare the hell out of me!

She had another favourite, about an evil elf called 'Jack o'lattern' but I can't now recall any of it; apart from a bit where he, Jack o'lantern, soured the milk of cows whilst still in their udders and, poxed the faces of young milk-maids!
 
Cowardy cowardy custard, green snot pie,
mix it up with a bull dogs eye
spread it on a peice, spread it on thick
swallow it down with a cup of cold sick.

Apologies, if you havent had your tea!
 
I know there is a much longer version to this but I only know one verse

To market to market with my uncle Jim
When someone threw a tomato at him
Tomatoes dont hurt he said with a grin
But this one did it was wrapped in a tin
 
This one's not too silly, just a brilliant one about LOVE for all you romantics out there. By W H Auden


O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
 
Yes, another truly great man with links to our Fair City. I hadn't been on the Harborne site yet ( now I have - thanks Aidan), as I am still plumbing the East Bham side where I came from and still live. I did work at the QEH for 36 years though, so know Harborne pretty well. One of my best medical pals worked at the practice at Lordswood House...both gone now unfortunately.
 
One i remember as a lad was, . Mary had a metal cow she milked it with a spanner,the milk came out in shilling tins and the small ones were a tanner.
 
There was a man, he went mad, he ran up a steeple,
He pulled out all his Odds and Ends and threw them to the people.

Have a nice day, Wally.
 
When I was young and in my prime, I used to do it all the time,
But now i'm old and turning grey, I only do it once a day.

Have a nice day, Wally.
 
My heart is like a cabbage broken into two,
The leaves I give to others, the Heart I give to you.

Have a nice day, Wally.
 
Thanks, Charles, I really enjoyed that one! View attachment 57770

RIP Johnny Standley (c 1913 - 27 May 1992). His recording "It's In The Book" sold more than a million copies and was at number one on the Billboard "Hot 100" chart 22-28 November 1952.
 
I saw this in the paper the other day, Thylacine:

An Extempore upon a Faggot

Have you not in a chimney seen
A Faggot which is moist and green
How coyly it receives the heat
And at both ends do’s weep and sweat?
So fares it with a tender Maid
When first upon her Back she’s laid
But like dry Wood th’ experienced Dame
Cracks and rejoices in the Flame.

Attributed to John Milton.
 
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