LYRIC
Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
How he fell with a roll and a rumble
And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
By the butt of the Magazine Wall
2. He was one time our King of the Castle
Now he's kicked about like a rotten old parsnip.
And from Green Street he'll be sent by order of His
Worship
To the penal jail of Mountjoy
3. He was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us
Slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for the
Populace,
Mare's milk for the sick, seven dry Sundays a week,
Openair love and religion's reform,
4. Arrah, why, says you, couldn't he manage it?
I'll go bail, me fine dairyman darling,
Like the bumping bull of the Cassidys
All your butter is in your horns
(Repeat) Hurrah there, Hosty, frosty Hosty, change that
Shirt on ye,
Rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!
5. We had chaw chaw chops, chairs, chewing gum, the
Chicken pox and china
Chambers
Universally provided by this soffsoaping salesman.
Small wonder He'll Cheat E'erawan our local lads
Nicknamed him
When Chimpden first took the floor
Lower.
6. So snug he was in his hotel premises sumptuous
But soon we'll bonfire all his trash, tricks and
Trumpery
And 'tis short till sheriff Clancy'll be winding up his
Unlimited
Company
With the bailiff's bom at the door
7. Sweet bad luck on the waves washed to our island
The hooker of the hammerfast viking
And Gall's curse on the day when Eblana bay
Saw his black and tan man-o'-war
8. Where from? Roars Poolbeg. Cookingha'pence, he bawls
Donnez-moi
Scampitle, wick an wipin'fampiny
Fingal Mac Oscar Onesine Bargearse Boniface
Thok's min gammelhole Norveegickers moniker
Og as ay are at gammelhore Norveegickers cod.
Lift it, Hosty, lift it, ye devil ye! Up with the rann,
The rhyming
Rann!
9. It was during some fresh water garden pumping
Or according to the Nursing Mirror, while admiring the
Monkeys
That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey
Made bold a maid to woo
Maidenloo!
10. He ought to blush for himself, the old hayheaded
Philosopher
For to go and shove himself that way on top of her.
Begob, he's the crux of the catalogue
Of our antediluvial zoo
Noo.
11. He was joulting by Wellinton's monument
Our rotorious hipppopopotamuns
When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus
And he caught his death of fusiliers,
Years.
12. 'Tis sore pity for his innocent poor children
But look out for his missus legitimate!
When that frew gets a grip of old Earwicker
Won't there be earwigs on the green?
Seen.
Suffoclose! Shikespower! Suedodanto! Anonymoses!
13. Then we'll have a free trade Gaels' band and mass
Meeting
For to sod the brave son of Scandiknavery
And we'll bury him down in Oxmanstown
Along with the devil and Danes,
Remains.
14. And not all the king's men nor his horses
Will resurrect his corpus
For there's no true spell in Connacht or hell
No comments yet