16th → 17th May

More recollected songs from my childhood. We had a radio wirelesssee comments in the “front room”(but see ‘thinking’, below) that we used to listen to every evening. It was an ornate object with a dial with all the world’s broadcasters – can’t recall many but Hilversum (a Dutch town, I think) rings a bell and of course there was crackly Luxembourg 208. The Beeb had a virtual monopoly apart from these distant places – Oh there was AFN* too. Don’t talk to me about Larry the Lamb and his mates at Toytown; I hated ’em.
(Thinking: The “front room” became my maternal grandmother’s exclusive bailiwick for most of the time at Lismore Road. We inhabited “the (back) room”.)
*American Forces Network.

The Whitewash on the Wall

Recall this from waaaaaayback. Apparently “the colonel’s daughter” was replaced by “your dirty daughter” if officers were present.

 

Oh wash me in the water that you washed the colonel’s daughter in,
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.
On the wall, on the wall,
Oh wash me in the water that you washed the colonels daughter in,
And I shall be whiter than the whitewash on the wall.

Albert and the Lion                                      

This monologue I remember from the radio.
Stanley Holloway had a lot of similar ditties, several involving Albert Ramsbottom.

 

There’s a famous seaside place called Blackpool
That’s noted for fresh air and fun
And Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.
   A fine little lad were young Albert,
   All dressed in his best, quite a swell.
   He’d a stick with an ‘orse’s ‘ead ‘andle;
   The finest that Woolworth’s could sell.
They didn’t think much to the ocean,
The waves they were piddlin’ and small.
There were no wrecks and nobody drownded,
‘Fact, nothin’ to laugh at at all!
   So, seeking for further amusement,
   They paid, and went into the zoo,
   Where they’d lions and tigers and camels
   And cold ale and sandwiches, too.
There were one great big lion called Wallace
Whose nose was all covered with scars;
He lay in a som-no-lent posture
With the side of ‘is face on the bars.
   Now Albert ‘ad ‘eard about lions-
   ‘Ow they was ferocious and wild;
   To see lion lyin’ so peaceful
   Just didn’t seem right to the child.
So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showin’ a morsel of fear,
Took ‘is stick with the ‘orse’s ‘ead ‘andle
And stuck it in Wallace’s ear.
   You could see that the lion din’t like it,
   For givin’ a kind of a roll,
   ‘E pulled Albert inside the cage with ‘im
   And swallered the little lad – ‘ole!
Now Mother ‘ad seen this occurrence,
And not knowin’ what to do next,
She ‘ollered “Yon lion’s et Albert!”
An’ Father said “Ee, I am vexed.”
   They complained to an animal keeper
   Who said “My, wot a nasty mis’ap;
   Are you sure it’s your boy ‘e’s eaten?”
   Pa said, “Am I sure? There’s ‘is cap!”
The manager ‘ad to be sent for;
‘E came and ‘e said “Wot’s to-do?”
Ma said “Yon lion’s et Albert,
And ‘im in ‘is Sunday clothes, too!”
   Father said “Right’s right, young feller-
   I think it’s a shame and a sin
   To ‘ave our son et by a lion
   And after we paid to come in.”
The manager wanted no trouble;
He took out his purse right away,
Sayin’ “‘Ow much to settle the matter?”
Pa said “Wot do you usually pay?”
   But Mother ‘ad turned a bit awkward
   When she saw where ‘er Albert ‘ad gone.
   She said “No, someone’s got to be summonsed!”
   So that was decided upon.
And off they all went to p’lice station
In front of a Magistrate chap;
They told what ‘ad ‘appened to Albert
And proved it by showing ‘is cap.
   The Magistrate gave ‘is opinion
   That no one was really to blame,
   And ‘e said that ‘e ‘oped the Ramsbottoms
   Would ‘ave further sons to their name.
At that Mother got proper blazin’:
“And thank you, sir, kindly,” said she-
“Wot, spend all our lives raisin’ children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!”

Ye Canna Shove Yer Granny

I’d forgotten this until I came across it t’other day while romping round the web. There are a few more verses but I didn’t know them.

 

O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus,
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus,
O ye canna shove yer Granny
‘Cos she’s yer Mammy’s Mammy
O ye canna shove yer Granny aff a bus.

Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.
Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.
Ye can shove yer ither Granny
‘Cos she’s yer Faither’s Mammy
Ye can shove yer ither Granny aff a bus.

The Bells of Hell

Never understood this – insinuates I’m going to heaven and you’re not. What’s that all about then?

 

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me,
And the little devils how they sing-a-ling-a-ling,
For you but not for me.
Oh death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling,
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you but not for me.

Sum Pics:
(Mouse over to see caption, click to enlarge)

16th May 2014

Round Lady Lee Reserve and back to the pond. The swan was on the nest. Back down at the pond three Polish(?) lads asked to be snapped.

 

17th May

To Lindrick Common via Shireoaks Woodland

To Lindrick Common via Shireoaks Woodland


Buzzards are often buzzed(sorry) by crows around Shireoaks ‘Woodland’. Seagulls seem to have successfully driven kestrels away from Godfrey’s pond. There’s a small area of the woodland that was full of insects as I walked through and was still well populated a month later. Swallows and lapwings are almost always first seen at Brancliffe Farm. Usually difficult to see and worse to photograph, there are some bloody big fish in the canal.
I presume that teasels get some benefit from consuming vicariously the insects that die in the water collecting at the leaf junctions. Couldn’t get a piccy – wrong lens.

3 thoughts on “16th → 17th May

  1. There was definitely Zagreb on the dial, hadn’t a clue where it was when I was a child – think I thught it was in Africa. I hated Toytown too, and while we’re on the subject, I also hated Rupert Bear books, for some reason I found them frightening! My best memories are 2 way Family Favourites, Sing Something Simple and Down Your Way. I still know all the lyrics to those terrible 50s songs and can remember my father singing them all or whistling the tunes in the shop while he worked. Men don’t whistle tunes any longer – just wolf whistles or expressions of delight or contempt.

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