Why, Why, Why?

Why, why, why is a word that I detest
Why, why, why must I get it off my chest
Someone always wants to investigate
I know what they're looking for
I could tell some tales that could titillate
But then they want more and more

Why, why, why is a word that I depise
Why, why, why can't you open up your eyes
Someone always asks what it's all about
They've been doing that for years
Worry is a wait that we haul about
Until it all ends in tears

Why, why, why do we survive
What can we be going to
Why, why, if we don't arrive
Can't we share a drink or two
Why, why, why are we alive
What with what we're going through
Why, why, if we have to die
Can't we share a joke or two

Why, why, why is a word that makes me mad
Why, why, why is a word I think is bad
Don't need to be told why you like a thing
Don't need to be told what's fun
You'll be growing old living like a king
If you just love someone

Why, why, why must we work until we drop
Why, why, why must we fight to reach the top
Doing all that you're obligated to
Dreaming you can be up there
What if you get there, and you hate the view
And then you find no one cares

Why, why, why do we survive
What can we be going to
Why, why, if we don't arrive
Can't we share a drink or two
Why, why, why are we alive
What with what we're going through
Why, why, if we have to die
Can't we share a joke or two

Why, why, why
Why, why, why

Why, why, why
Why, why, why

The Sporting Life

When I was just a little lad, I wasn't good for much
Me father said I'd always be a slob (be a slob)
The girls would tell me you can look, but oh, you'll never touch
The boys would look, then punch me in the gob!

Well nowadays, some people make a fortune playing sports
From running 'round and rolling in the mud (in the mud)
But I wouldn't swap me jacket for a racquet and some shorts
And I never did enjoy the sight of blood!

But I've a friend called Frank
Who's working in a bank
But lives for his game of rugby
With ten left toes
And a cauliflower nose
He swears that it keeps him young... No!

The sporting life is not for me
I'd rather be a donkey or a monkey up a tree
I'll sweep the street
I'll mince the meat
Do anything at all
But don't make me kick another ball!

My teachers always hated me, I was a sickly brat
They said, 'You're for the high jump' – and I was! (and he was)
They thought that being tall and thin, I might be good at that
But I ran up to the line, and there I 'froz'!

But I've a pal called Paul
Who loves a cricket ball
The sound that it makes on willow [1]
He shows no fear
And hits one once a year
In matches that last that long... No!

The sporting life is not for me
I'd rather be a donkey or a monkey up a tree
I'll sweep the street
I'll mince the meat
Do anything at all
But don't make me kick another ball!

There was a time I thought I might have made a bunch of friends
They dragged me to a soggy patch of grass (patch of grass)
They started running 'round and well, you know how this one ends
They lost the ball and kicked me up the field!

But I've a mate called Mac
Who goes to the track
And drinks 'til he thinks he's sober
He takes his pay
And chucks it all away
And thinks that he's having fun... No!

The sporting life is not for me
I'd rather be a donkey or a monkey up a tree
I'll sweep the street
I'll mince the meat
Do anything at all
But don't make me kick another ball!

Back then your mum would say be careful what you do
Don't have to jump around
You're not a kangaroo
Meanwhile your dad said if they kick you, kick 'em back!
And give us all a real good laugh

Well, nowadays I've mellowed, and I say just let 'em play
And I don't get into quite so many brawls (many brawls)
It's wonderful, that there's so many games for kids today
That is, providing that they've got the balls

Now I've a boy called Bill
Who loves to climb a hill
And fly down when he's got skis on
I've said by heck
You'll break yer bloomin' neck
But that never stopped no one... No!

The sporting life is not for me
I'd rather be a monkey or a donkey up a tree
I'll sweep the street
I'll mince the meat
Do anything at all
But don't make me kick another ball!

Dear Old Mum

Let me tell you 'bout me dear old mum
How she had a brood of ten for Mother Ireland
Raise your glasses to me dear old mum
With a penny for the Pope, and forty shades of green

Eve'ry Saturday she'd laugh
As she scrubbed us in the bath
With the biggest bar of soap you've ever seen
Then on Sunday, bread and tea
Mutton dripping just for me
Times was hard, but we was happy
And hygienic

Let me tell you 'bout me dear old mum
How she brought us up like proper little Paddies
You had to hand it to me dear old mum
Well, it's a shame I'm still so scarred
From where she scrubbed a bit too hard
But she's the only mum I'll ever know
She's the only mum I'll ever know

Let me tell you 'bout me dear old mum
And the ten of us – or was it down to nine then
I remember how me dear old mum
Put us on the street to beg, and fled to Mother Gin

On the 'Dilly or the Strand [2]
She could always find a man
Who could pay for any brand of Dutch Delight [3]
While we were spat on, we were kicked
Went from seven, down to six
Some was carried off by fever, some by fighting

Have you heard about me dear old mum
How she cried that it was all the fault of England
Let me tell you how me dear old mum
Dragged me through the mud and muck
And 'ow I've never 'ad no luck
But she's the only mum I'll ever know
She's the only mum I'll ever know

So if, like me, you lost your mum
A dozen years ago
Your memory can sometimes tell you lies
But if she was an angel, or the Devil in disguise
She was the only mum you'll ever know
The only mum you'll ever know

Monty Mundy (Is Maltese)!

(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)

Now who's the strangest bloomin' creature in the world today?
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
Assumin' that he's humin, we're not sure what else to say
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)

You might say that he looks a proper Swede
With yellow hair and eyes of baby blue
But there's no use complainin'
If he says he's Medit'rain-yin
Then it's true!

Who wears big baggy trousers, with a sash around the waist
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
And lives on snails and rabbit stew, regardless of the taste
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
He wears a Maltese hat upon his head
What's different to a turban or a fez
There may be a point we're missin'
So maybe we ought to listen
What he says

Which is:
It takes all kinds – of people in the world
And some of them are chalk and some are cheese
So change your minds – and hats off if you please
'Cause Monty Mundy is Maltese

Who wants us all to fly his flag – a spiky little cross
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
And vows he's from Valletta, so you'd betta – he's the boss!
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
He swears he's from a southern land of sun
Although his skin's an English shade of pale
And you can see him pout
When people try to work it out
And when they fail

He says, it takes all kinds – of people in the world
And some of them are chalk and some are cheese
So change your minds – and hats off if you please
'Cause Monty Mundy is Maltese

Some people think they're Caesar, or Napoleon Bonaparte
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
There's a bloke called Mona Lisa, and an 'orse called Mr. Cart
(Monty Mundy, Monty Mundy)
But everyone must pay their due respects
Especially now that Monty is the mayor
He may not be elected
But objections are rejected
He don't care!

Because it takes all kinds – of people in the world
And some of them are chalk and some are cheese
So change your minds – and hats off if you please
'Cause Monty Mundy eats
Monty Mundy drinks
Monty Mundy feels
Monty Mundy thinks
Monty Mundy is Maltese

The Shades Of Night

It happened one evening, a Wednesday in spring
With my day's work done
I thought I'd go for a walk, just to savour the breeze

Windows were lighted
And people excited
For nights of fun
But their curtains weren't drawn
Someone really should warn them
One can't help but see what one sees

The shades of night were falling fast
Around all the streets and the squares
It's all too easy, strolling past
To see what your neighbours are doing in there
They're not playing pianos, or having their tea
Not talking, or reading a book
The shades of night were falling fast
But I still got a pretty good look

Now I swear I'm not prying
Or snooping or spying
That's not my way
Until I spotted a head full of lovely dark curls

She looked familiar
Yes, more than just similar!
As clear as day!
And I stopped in the street
As my heart skipped a beat
And I heard myself say, 'That's my girl!'

The shades of night were falling fast
Around all the streets and the squares
It's all too easy, strolling past
To see what your neighbours are doing in there
They're not playing pianos, or having their tea
Not talking, or reading a book
The shades of night were falling fast
But I still got a pretty good look

We were to marry, I thought I would carry her down the aisle
Then in one moment, my dreams almost turned to despair
Now I'm for the Navy
And who knows but maybe
That's more my style
With a girl in each port
I won't spare a thought
For that evening I went walking where

The shades of night were falling fast
Around all the streets and the squares
It's all too easy, strolling past
To see what your neighbours are doing in there

(spoken:)
Oh, it's a sad story, isn't it, ladies and gentlemen?
Still, every cloud has a silver lining
And I used to say it all will turn out for the best
So, enjoy that special twilight time
Mind how you go and watch where you look

What A Racket!

Living in the city – is dirty and it's gritty
It's smoggy and it's sooty and it stinks
Well I don't really mind it – I take it as I find it
But I don't care what anybody thinks
And there's one thing I can't take
It's the noise the people make!

What a din, what a racket
I don't think I can hack it
I didn't come here looking for a fight
Pass a law, and I'll back it
Pass a bag and let me pack it
I'll do anything if it'll bring me sleep at night

All day long they're banging – and clattering and clanging
And begging for the boss to let them out
You'd think they'd want some quiet – instead they start a riot
And fuss and fight and scrap and scream and shout
When you'd like a quiet drink
And you can't hear yourself think

What a din, what a racket
I don't think I can hack it
I didn't come here looking for a fight
Pass a law, and I'll back it
Pass a bag and let me pack it
I'll do anything if it'll bring me sleep at night

The Bishop And The Actress

Oh, the bishop and the actress
Had a very bold affair
Or it would have been, if they were seen
Out in the public square
Instead it was in secret
They cuddled and they kissed
And spread fresh gossip with each tender tryst

But that was back in days of bawdy fun
When fair folks felt no fear of quip or pun

When you heard a saucy sort
Say I like a spot of sport
But it happens to be hard to fit it in
Or someone was on the job
Or was polishing a knob
Or debating the debaucheries of old Nell Gwynn

When you heard 'Fainting fits!'
Other naughty bits!
Or 'Cor what a lovely pear!'
The bishop and the actress were still there!

Said the bishop to the actress
"It's you that I adore
But we mustn't meet out on the street
I'll come in your back door."
Said the actress to the bishop
"Proceed with caution there

But nowadays there's trouble all around
Where entendres that are double are still found

When you hear a cheeky chap
Say I like a bit of slap
And tickle, or a tremble of the knee
When something's getting sticky
Or somebody likes a quickie
Or is flashing us a wink and going 'Tee hee hee'
Wielding a chopper!
Squealing 'What a whopper!'
'Deliveries in the rear!'
The bishop and the actress are still here!

Think Of The Show!

When the average man and his average wife
Come away from a night at the theatre
Do they give half a damn for the maddening life
That is often the lot of its creators
They're blissfully unaware
Of the burden you have to bear

When you put on a wig and step into the lights
And you hope your reception is clamorous
But you sweat like a pig in some filthy old tights
In a futile attempt to be glamorous
You miss every other cue
And stagger off black and blue
As you sob in the wings, there's only one thing you can do

Think of the show, dear hearts!
Yes, the show must go on
And though it's a tale of woe
From Sydenham to Ceylon
Think of the show, dear hearts!
Wherever a light is shone
A player must play, or what'll they say
When we're all gone

When you're thinking at least you can dress like a king
And indulge in the sin they call vanity
But you look like a beast in some battered old thing
With an odour than threatens your sanity
The audience shouts hooray
But they're forty feet away!

Then you wait for the swell of a nautical storm
But hear only clippety-cloppety
From coconut shells, rather badly performed
By the man from Theatrical Properties
And much as it hurts to hear
He's rather the worse for beer
And there's only one course that can give you a morsel of cheer

Think of the show, dear hearts!
Yes, the show must go on
And though it's a tale of woe
From Sunderland to Saigon
Think of the show, dear hearts!
Wherever a light is shone
A player must play, or what'll they say
When we're all gone

Ev'ry actor possesses the soul of a saint
And a marvellous mind analytical
One never professes to practice restraint
In propounding positions political
A play, you must pay to see
But we proffer advice for free!

For with all that we suffer, and all of the tears
In a life in professions theatrical
One has to be tougher than first it appears
And an actor is perfectly practical
A rational world would say
An actor should lead the way
But until it comes true, there's nothing to do but to pray

And think of the show, dear hearts!
Yes, the show must go on
And though it's a tale of woe
From Coventry to Canton
Think of the show, dear hearts!
Wherever a light is shone
A player must play, or what'll they say
When we're all gone

Never So Nice In The Morning

Oh, oh, the horror of school
Cold winter mornings so cruel
When they called me a fool
For preferring my bed

No greater mis'ry I've known
Rolled in my covers I'd moan
Wishing I was full grown
Or just sleeping instead

Oh I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, I'm not good
I should issue a twelve-hour warning
Just to make it understood
No, I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, I'm not great
Afternoon, slightly sad
Early evening, not bad
But at night time I scintillate!

Oh, oh, the horror of work
Cold winter mornings I'd shirk
Always later to lurk
Under blanket and sheet

No, I'm not labouring stock
Sold to some fact'ry or dock
It's enough of a shock
To be up on my feet

No, I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, I'm not nice
If you see me all scowling and yawning
Keep away, is my advice!
No, I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, I'm a swine
Afternoon, I won't play
Early evening, okay
But at night time the world is mine!

I'm for the sweetness of life
Lying in bed with a wife
Far away from the strife
Of a wearisome world

Oh, but she wakes up too soon
Hoping to snuggle and spoon
When it's inopportune
For unconscious I'm curled

No, I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, I'm no fun
And I daresay a new day is dawning
But I can't rise like the sun!
No, I'm never my best in the morning
In the morning, it's no go
Afternoons, I'm not free
Early evening – maybe
But at night time I'm Romeo!

(spoken:)
Come on! It's after six!
Oh, just a small sherry for me, if you insist.)

Health & Safety

We're not marching off to war
We're marching on one spot
We make so bold, as to do just what we're told
Ask us what we're frightened of, we'll answer, 'what yer got?'
Corporal Cook has got a cough
Sergeant Smith feels sad
I do my best, to get through every test
But something's wrong – I'm feeling strong!
Perhaps I'm going mad!
Try to get a grip – relax the upper lip
Keep it gloomy and be glad

Health and safety is your only wealth
Chide me, chafe me
Save me from myself
I'm the sum, I'm the fool
Wants me mum, give me some
One to send me back to school
Health and safety, what's it all about
Put that pint down, stub the gasper out [4]
Knock me down, lock me down
Strewth and flippin' 'eck
It's always the working man gets it in the neck

When we go out on patrol
We keep ourselves in check
No time to free a cat stuck up a tree
You might get fleas, or allergies, or fall and break your neck
Don't jump off that river bank
To save a drowning man
Think what you'd get, apart from soaking wet
Might as well jump from the fire into the frying pan
Stay just slightly stressed – you know it's for the best
They're always going to have a plan

Health and safety is your only wealth
Chide me, chafe me
Save me from myself
I'm the sum, I'm the fool
Wants me mum, give me some
One to send me back to school
Health and safety, what's it all about
Put that pint down, stub the gasper out
Knock me down, lock me down
Strewth and flippin' 'eck
It's always the working man gets it in the neck

So count yourself as blessed
'Cause 'they' know what is best
They're always going to have a plan ... (well, aren't they?!)

Health and safety is your only wealth
Chide me, chafe me
Save me from myself
I'm the sum, I'm the fool
Wants me mum, give me some
One to send me back to school
Health and safety, what's it all about
Put that pint down, stub the gasper out
Knock me down, lock me down
Strewth and flippin' 'eck
It's always the working man gets it in the neck

Worse Things Happen At Sea

Life isn't always jolly – Sun often turns to rain
Between our fear and folly – We fail and fail again
My old man knew about it – He'd sailed the seven seas
It's not that he would doubt it – He'd say, alright, but please

Let's save our tears
Be brave, my dears
And stand up straight and free
Remember what the sailors say
Worse things happen at sea
Oh, worse things happen at sea

I had a dog called Lucky – A lively little chap
Blind in his left eye, and lost his right ear in a scrap
At least one leg was going lame – His coat was going bald
But he still answered to his name – When anybody called

Let's save our tears
Be brave, my dears
And stand up straight and free
Remember what the sailors say
Worse things happen at sea
Oh, worse things happen at sea

When me and Dad went walking – He hardly said a word
But he knew I was talking – And I knew that he heard
I'd tell him of the tears I'd shed – My struggles and my pain
And by and by he'd shake his head – And start his old refrain

Let's save our tears
Be brave, my dears
And stand up straight and free
Remember what the sailors say
Worse things happen at sea
Oh, worse things happen at sea

Footnotes:

[1] Cricket bats are traditionally made from willow wood.

[2] The London streets Piccadilly and the Strand were known for prostitution.

[3] Dutch Delight here is gin.

[4] British slang: a cigarette.