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anthony burgess - the ballad of persse o'reilly lyrics
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 b_tt of the magazine wall
of the magazine wall
hump, helmet and all?
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
to the jail of mountjoy!
jail him and joy
he was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us
slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for the populacе
mare’s milk for the sick, sevеn dry sundays a week
openair love and religion’s reform
and religious reform
hideous in form
arrah, why, says you, couldn’t he manage it?
i’ll go bail, my fine dairyman darling
like the bumping bull of the cassidys
all your b_tter is in your h_rns
his b_tter is in his h_rns
b_tter his h_rns!
(repeat) hurrah there, hosty, frosty hosty, change that shirt on ye
rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!
balbaccio, balbuccio!
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
with his bucketshop store
down bargainweg, lower
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
bimbam at the door
then he’ll bum no more
sweet bad luck on the waves washed to our island
the hooker of that hammerfast viking
and gall’s curse on the day when eblana bay
saw his black and tan man_o’_war
saw his man_o’_war
on the harbour bar
where from? roars poolbeg. cookingha’pence, he bawls
donnez_moi scampitle, wick an wipin’fampiny
fingal mac oscar onesine barge_rs_ boniface
thok’s min gammelhole norveegickers moniker
og as ay are at gammelhore norveegickers cod
a norwegian camel old cod
he is, begod
lift it, hosty, lift it, ye devil, ye! up with the rann, the rhyming rann!
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
woohoo, what’ll she doo!
the general lost her maidenloo!
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
messrs billing and coo
noah’s larks, good as noo
he was joulting by wellinton’s monument
our rotorious hippopopotamuns
when some b_gg_r let down the backtrap of the omnibus
and he caught his death of fusiliers
with his rent in his rears
give him six years
’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?
big earwigs on the green
the largest ever you seen
suffoclose! shikespower! seudodanto! anonymoses!
then we’ll have a free trade gael’s band and mass meeting
for to sod him the brave son of scandiknavery
and we’ll bury him down in oxmanstown
along with the devil and the danes
with the deaf and dumb danes
and all their remains
and not all the king’s men nor his horses
will resurrect his corpus
for there’s no true spell in connacht or h_ll
that’s able to raise a cain
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