English drinking songs?
- Thread starter Jonno
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sten_super
Brain Surgeon
Roxanne
s5.bha
New member
- Aug 3, 2003
- 837
Bob!
Coffee Buyer
- Jul 5, 2003
- 12,066
Lord Bracknell
On fire
A real Sussex drinking song (to the tune of Yankee Doodle), written in praise of his own home-brewed ale by Michael Blann, a shepherd from Upper Beeding (born 1843, died 1934):-
If you are sick 'twill make you hail
And put you in condition
A man that will drink Blann's good ale
Has need of no physician.
Chorus:
Blann's it is the beer for me
A pint of it's so handy
It's as fine as any wine
And strong as any brandy
'Twill ease yer pain and warm yer brain
And drive out melancholy
A man that will drink Blann's good ale
He will be fat & jolly
The foreigners may praise their wines
'Tis only to deceive us
Would they come here and taste this beer
I'm sure they'd never leave us
The meagre French their thirst they quench
With muscatel. To show them
Give them a year of Blann's good beer
Their country would not know them
All you that have not tasted yet
It's time you set about it
No man with pence or common sense
Would ever be without it !!!!
If you are sick 'twill make you hail
And put you in condition
A man that will drink Blann's good ale
Has need of no physician.
Chorus:
Blann's it is the beer for me
A pint of it's so handy
It's as fine as any wine
And strong as any brandy
'Twill ease yer pain and warm yer brain
And drive out melancholy
A man that will drink Blann's good ale
He will be fat & jolly
The foreigners may praise their wines
'Tis only to deceive us
Would they come here and taste this beer
I'm sure they'd never leave us
The meagre French their thirst they quench
With muscatel. To show them
Give them a year of Blann's good beer
Their country would not know them
All you that have not tasted yet
It's time you set about it
No man with pence or common sense
Would ever be without it !!!!
Lord Bracknell
On fire
I am the man, the very fat man,
That waters the workers' beer
I am the man, the very fat man,
That waters the workers' beer
And what do I care if it makes them ill,
If it makes them terribly queer
I've a car, a yacht, and an aeroplane,
And I waters the workers' beer
Now when I waters the workers' beer,
I puts in strychnine
Some methylated spirits,
And a can of kerosine
Ah, but such a brew so terribly strong,
It would make them terribly queer
So I reaches my hand for the watering-can
And I waters the workers' beer
Now a drop of good beer is good for a man
When he's tired, thirsty and hot
And I sometimes have a drop myself,
From a very special pot
But a strong and healthy working class
Is the thing that I most fear
So I reaches my hand for the watering-can
And I waters the workers' beer
Now ladies fair, beyond compare,
Be you maiden or wife
Spare a thought for such a man
Who leads such a lonely life
For the water rates are frightfully high,
And the meths is terribly dear
And there ain't the profit there used to be
In watering the workers' beer
That waters the workers' beer
I am the man, the very fat man,
That waters the workers' beer
And what do I care if it makes them ill,
If it makes them terribly queer
I've a car, a yacht, and an aeroplane,
And I waters the workers' beer
Now when I waters the workers' beer,
I puts in strychnine
Some methylated spirits,
And a can of kerosine
Ah, but such a brew so terribly strong,
It would make them terribly queer
So I reaches my hand for the watering-can
And I waters the workers' beer
Now a drop of good beer is good for a man
When he's tired, thirsty and hot
And I sometimes have a drop myself,
From a very special pot
But a strong and healthy working class
Is the thing that I most fear
So I reaches my hand for the watering-can
And I waters the workers' beer
Now ladies fair, beyond compare,
Be you maiden or wife
Spare a thought for such a man
Who leads such a lonely life
For the water rates are frightfully high,
And the meths is terribly dear
And there ain't the profit there used to be
In watering the workers' beer
The Sock of Poskett
The best is yet to come (spoiler alert)
- Jun 12, 2009
- 2,863
Roll out the barrel! 
Thunder Bolt
Silly old bat
redneb
Active member
Tony Towner's Fridge
Well-known member
How about this for a real good Bawdy Scottish Ballad entitled The Ball of Kerriemur (Ballynore)
Oh the Ball, the Ball, the Ball of Kerriemur,
Where your wife an his wife were doin it on the floor...
'Twas on the first of August, the party, it began.
Now, never shall I forget, me lads, the gatherin' of the clans...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
'Twas the gatherin' o' the clans, and everyone was there,
A-playin wi' tha lassies, an' twinin curly hairs...
Four an twenty virgins, came down from Inverness
An when tha Ball were o'er there were four and twenty less...
John McGowan, the father, was very surprised to see
Four and twenty maidenheads a-hangin from the tree...
There were dancin' in the meadow, there was dancin in the ricks
An ye couldnae hear the bagpipes fer tha swishin o' tha pricks...
The bride was in the parlor, explainin to the groom,
"The vagina, not the rectum is the entrance to the womb..."
The Queen was in the parlor, eating bread an honey,
The King was in the parlormaid and she was in the money...
The parson's daughter, she was there a sittin way down front
A wreath of roses in her hair, and a carrot in her ****...
And the parson's wife, she was there, her arse against the wall,
Shoutin to the laddie boys, " I'll take ye one and all"...
It's the first lady forward, and the second lady back,
And the third lady's finger in the second lady's crack...
The village butcher, he was there, a cleaver in his hand.
And everytime he turned around, he circumcised the band...
Now, all the ladies back, with your arses against the wall,
If ye cannae get f***ed at Kerriemur, ye cannae get f***ed at all!...
The village priest, oh, he was there and on the floor he sat,
Amusin himself by abusin himself and catchin it in his hat...
They was doin' in the kitchen, and doin' it on the stones.
Ya couldna' hear the music for the wheezin' and the groans...
The undertaker, he went there dressed in a long black shroud,
Swingin from the chandelier and pissin on the crowd...
The mayor's daughter she was there, and kept the crowd in fits,
By jumpin off the mantle piece and landin on her tits...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
There was screwin on the banister, an screwin on the stairs
You couldnae see the carpet for the mess of curly hairs...
The village idiot, he was there, he was a perfect fool
He sat beneath the old oak tree and whittled off his tool...
The village whore now she was there, a layin' on the floor
And every time she opened her legs the suction closed the door...
The village baker he was there, so drunk he began to scream
He grabbed the girls like great big tarts and pumped them full of cream...
The village potter he was there he made a dong of clay
He sat little girls upon the wheel and gave them all a lay...
The village rabbi he was there, treatin' a knife like a toy
He swung and swished and he took an inch off every man and boy...
The village acrobat he was there, a' screwin' on the stair
The bannister broke, he doubled his stroke and finished her off in midair...
The village hunter he was there, polishin' his gun with skill
Four girls were all barin' their asses, waitin' for the kill...
The village fool now he was there, he had an amazin' lack of wits
For every time a girl would pass, he'd just drool on her tits...
The village virgin she was there, the poor girl got a scare
But from under her dress she heard a voice "It's only my tongue up there!"...
The village swordsman he was there, he had a rod like a train
And when he rammed an ass they cried, "My god he impaled my brain"...
The village constable he was there, a-twirlin' his billy stick
Surprised were all the girls to find it was really a twelve inch prick...
The village maiden now she was there, a clingin' to her dress
Bein' chased by a hoard of horny priests, her sins they would confess...
The village nun she was there, great stains upon her habit
That was because she spent the night screwin' like a rabbit...
The village postman, he was there, the puir min had tha pox,
He could nae f*** the lassies, so he f***ed the letter box...
The chimney sweep, yes he was there, but soon he got the boot,
For every time he farted, he filled the room with soot...
The groom was now excited, and racing through the halls,
Pullin on his pecker and a-showin off his balls...
Big John, the farmer, swore an oath, then cursed an spat,
For his forty acre corn field was completely fuckin flat...
And when the Ball was over, this opinion was expressed:
Although they liked the music, the screwin was the best...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
TNBA
TTF
Oh the Ball, the Ball, the Ball of Kerriemur,
Where your wife an his wife were doin it on the floor...
'Twas on the first of August, the party, it began.
Now, never shall I forget, me lads, the gatherin' of the clans...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
'Twas the gatherin' o' the clans, and everyone was there,
A-playin wi' tha lassies, an' twinin curly hairs...
Four an twenty virgins, came down from Inverness
An when tha Ball were o'er there were four and twenty less...
John McGowan, the father, was very surprised to see
Four and twenty maidenheads a-hangin from the tree...
There were dancin' in the meadow, there was dancin in the ricks
An ye couldnae hear the bagpipes fer tha swishin o' tha pricks...
The bride was in the parlor, explainin to the groom,
"The vagina, not the rectum is the entrance to the womb..."
The Queen was in the parlor, eating bread an honey,
The King was in the parlormaid and she was in the money...
The parson's daughter, she was there a sittin way down front
A wreath of roses in her hair, and a carrot in her ****...
And the parson's wife, she was there, her arse against the wall,
Shoutin to the laddie boys, " I'll take ye one and all"...
It's the first lady forward, and the second lady back,
And the third lady's finger in the second lady's crack...
The village butcher, he was there, a cleaver in his hand.
And everytime he turned around, he circumcised the band...
Now, all the ladies back, with your arses against the wall,
If ye cannae get f***ed at Kerriemur, ye cannae get f***ed at all!...
The village priest, oh, he was there and on the floor he sat,
Amusin himself by abusin himself and catchin it in his hat...
They was doin' in the kitchen, and doin' it on the stones.
Ya couldna' hear the music for the wheezin' and the groans...
The undertaker, he went there dressed in a long black shroud,
Swingin from the chandelier and pissin on the crowd...
The mayor's daughter she was there, and kept the crowd in fits,
By jumpin off the mantle piece and landin on her tits...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
There was screwin on the banister, an screwin on the stairs
You couldnae see the carpet for the mess of curly hairs...
The village idiot, he was there, he was a perfect fool
He sat beneath the old oak tree and whittled off his tool...
The village whore now she was there, a layin' on the floor
And every time she opened her legs the suction closed the door...
The village baker he was there, so drunk he began to scream
He grabbed the girls like great big tarts and pumped them full of cream...
The village potter he was there he made a dong of clay
He sat little girls upon the wheel and gave them all a lay...
The village rabbi he was there, treatin' a knife like a toy
He swung and swished and he took an inch off every man and boy...
The village acrobat he was there, a' screwin' on the stair
The bannister broke, he doubled his stroke and finished her off in midair...
The village hunter he was there, polishin' his gun with skill
Four girls were all barin' their asses, waitin' for the kill...
The village fool now he was there, he had an amazin' lack of wits
For every time a girl would pass, he'd just drool on her tits...
The village virgin she was there, the poor girl got a scare
But from under her dress she heard a voice "It's only my tongue up there!"...
The village swordsman he was there, he had a rod like a train
And when he rammed an ass they cried, "My god he impaled my brain"...
The village constable he was there, a-twirlin' his billy stick
Surprised were all the girls to find it was really a twelve inch prick...
The village maiden now she was there, a clingin' to her dress
Bein' chased by a hoard of horny priests, her sins they would confess...
The village nun she was there, great stains upon her habit
That was because she spent the night screwin' like a rabbit...
The village postman, he was there, the puir min had tha pox,
He could nae f*** the lassies, so he f***ed the letter box...
The chimney sweep, yes he was there, but soon he got the boot,
For every time he farted, he filled the room with soot...
The groom was now excited, and racing through the halls,
Pullin on his pecker and a-showin off his balls...
Big John, the farmer, swore an oath, then cursed an spat,
For his forty acre corn field was completely fuckin flat...
And when the Ball was over, this opinion was expressed:
Although they liked the music, the screwin was the best...
Singin--- Who hae ye lassie, Who hae ye noo?
Tha mon wha hae ye last nicht, He cannae hae ye noo.
TNBA
TTF
Lord Bracknell
On fire
[yt]bppHDahvF5g[/yt]
Tony Towner's Fridge
Well-known member
Truly briliant!
At my sister and Brother in laws wedding many many years ago, the best man's speech was a fabulous rendition of a fine bawdy Sussex Song Called 'Catching the Black Rabbit'. Never seen it or heard it since but found this similar Scottish ditty on-line. Anyone know the whereabouts of the rabbit?
The Bonny Black Hare
On the fourteenth of May, at the dawn of the day,
With me gun on my shoulder, to the woods I did stray,
In search of some game, if the weather proved fair,
To see could I get a shot at the bonny black hare.
Well I met a young girl, with the face of a rose.
And her skin was as fair as the lily that grows.
I says "Tell me, fair maiden, why ramble you so?
Can you tell me where the bonny black hare do go?"
And the answer she gave me, her answer was, "No,
But it's under me apron that they say it do go.
And if you'll not deceive me, I'll vow and declare,
That we'll both go together toward the bonny black hare."
Well, I lay this girl down, with her face to the sky,
And I pulls up me ramrod, and me bullets likewise.
I says, "Lock your legs 'round me and dig in with your heels,
For the closer we get, love, the better it feels."
Now the birds, they were singin', in the bushes and trees.
And the song that they sang is "She's easy to please!"
And I felt her heart quiver, and I knew what I'd done.
Says I, "Have you had enough, of me old sportin' gun?"
And the answer she gave me, her answer was, "Nay,
For it's not often young sportsmen like you come my way.
Now if your powder be willin', and your bullets fly fair,
Why don't you keep firin' at the bonny black hare?"
Now, me powder is wasted, me bullets all gone.
Me ramrod is limber, I cannot fire on.
But I'll be back in the mornin', and if you are still here,
We'll both go together, towards the bonny black hare.
TNBA
TTF