Henry's Songbook

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The Food-A-Holic

  • (Crawford Howard)

    There once was an old alcoholic
    Who lived at the top of oor road
    His behaviour was real diabolic
    He never left till he was throwed
    Out of every pub in the district
    And his doctor said, See, if you don't stop
    Inside six months at the latest
    You will definitely be for the chop

    Now, this scared the old man stupid
    So he never went back tae a pub
    But the funny thing was, like - whatever the cause, like
    He began tae get drunk on his grub
    Now this was a strange situation
    If he got a mouthful of tea
    Or a bowl of hot soup, his head started to droop
    And his wife would say, God, he's away

    She said,See that old grocer
    I'd like to get him by the hair
    He stood that old fool an onion
    And now he's away on the tear
    D'you know where I found the old geezer
    That drunk he could hardly stand
    Lyin' across a deep-freezer
    Wi' a hamburger clutched in his hand

    He soon fell into bad company
    'Cause he met an old fool like hissel'
    Who'd get rotten on jelly and custard
    And whatever he could steal aff the shelf

    The poor Chinese waiters would worry
    They knew what to expect
    When your men hit the chow-mein and curry
    They knew the place would get wrecked
    They were soon known all round the district
    And even I thought it was hard
    One night they went for a fish supper
    And the lassie said, Sorry - you're barred

    Then one night they just overdid it
    They had two pies over the eight
    They borrowed a car to get home, like
    For they knew they were terrible late
    Of course, who stops them - a policeman
    Who started to shout and to barge
    He said, You've both done it this time
    You're arrested for being drunk in charge

    The old yin stood up in the court, like
    And he said, We've got this rap bate
    You've made out the charge sheet all wrong, pal
    We weren't drunk, we were ate
    You can still see them most Sunday mornings
    Banging the grocer's back door
    Standin' aboot wi' their tongues hangin' oot
    And waitin' tae get in for the cure

    As spoken by Iain MacKintosh

Susannes Folksong-Notizen

  • nothing / nichts

Quelle: Ireland

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aktualisiert am 15.10.2003