Here is a list of some of the songs the Hoodeners have performed over time. Almost all have well known tunes, but in most cases the lyrics were written (and re-written) by ourselves, particularly Martin Beale, Ben Jones and Annette Paul. Several songs / verses are missing at present - in recent years we've done 2-3 new songs per year - they may be added later.
The song "Three Jolly Hoodening Boys" (or four, five, etc.) now has its own page: the Jolly Hoodening song
We also sing carols at the end of every performance: here is a PDF of our own carol sheet - including 'alternative' words to the Twelve Days of Christmas, depending on whether we're at a Shepherd Neame or Wantsum Brewery establishment. The words of no. 4 may also change depending on how slow the host is in delivering our beer...
Songs only performed in one particular year (words etc. normally included in script as linked on the Hoodening History 1965-99 or Hoodening History 2000- pages).
There was a plan to sing a song called the 'Folkestone Murder(er)' in 1978, but it was in fact never performed.
There was also a 'Hoodening Rap' in 1994 which is not included in the script:
[…] Our voices might be a load of crap, But that don't mean that we can't rap! Yo, man! we're the Hoodening Posse, That there's Molly, she was a bit bossy, When we visited the houses of St Nichol-…-as She got real mean and went to sweep ass. You didn't show respect, didn't treat her right? You'd get no relief for the rest of the night. The hoss is Dobbin, a really cool dude, The only hoss I know with attitude; You ask him to work, and you will not see him move, But get a filly close and watch him groove! So adios, amigos from the Hoodening Crew, I'm gonna get on down with some MasterBrew!
The next section consists of songs often performed, and unique to the Hoodeners ('cos we wrote 'em!).
This was adapted from the Two Ronnies' song "Bold Sir John".
We are St Nicholas Hoodeners with our custom very old We represent a ploughing team Who celebrate an ancient theme Our solstice rights aren't what they seem Peace offerings so we're told [refrain]
[Alternative first verse in 1986 & 2002] We are St Nicholas Hoodeners who come round at Christmas time, We sing you songs and Christmas hymns, Request your money for Pilgrims' Hospice; and it's all done while we're… A-prattling on in rhyme [refrain]
Now I have started fishing, hoping trout will be my catch You stand so still your wellies steam Awaiting fish your way to teem Your flies float gently on the stream Its different moods to match [refrain] Now our old Moll is getting old, she isn't what she were She's scrawny now, she ain't a tart No longer has the urge to start Big bust-ups with us on the cart So doff your hat to her [refrain] Our Dobbin's unpredictable, he's calm or can annoy We never know what he's about He, while we pat him on the snout, Gets tough and starts a-kicking out Or scrapping with the boy [refrain] Now Sam enjoys the harvest time, he'll do it all year round The summer sun, the lunchtime ale Will sometimes cause his strength to fail Half-heartedly he lifts a bale That's mellowing on the ground [refrain] Our Boy is hardly muscle-bound, he's thin as thin can be If he were a horse we'd have him shot Each year you'll see him, oft as not Drop dead upon the ground; oh what… A puny lad is he [refrain: twice last time]
All: We are St Nicholas Hood'ners who come round at Christmas time, We are just simple country folk who always talk in rhyme, If you've enjoyed our show a half as much as we have too, Then it stands to reason we've enjoyed it twice as much as you. Joe: Well over there is Molly, looking tired and drawn and low, She had a lovely baby girl just 16(/17/18/19) days ago, D'you notice how the strain has made her look and feel quite bad, Well it really is amazing 'cos she is the baby's Dad. Moll: Now there is Joe the Wagoner, bedecked in smart top 'at, He's having trouble singing 'cos he's getting far too fat, He'll bellow out the songs until he hits the highest note And an overloaded beergut rips a button off his coat. Boy: Old Sam is on the scrounge all year — no thing he has is his. We think he's got some money, but we don't know where it is. His pants he borrowed from old Joe; his smock was once a sheet; his hat he found in an old dung mound, which is why he smells so sweet. Joe: The boy and our musician have been working on the land. As workers go they're willing, but things don't turn out as planned. They hoed a field of young spring greens as clean as a new pin, But they left the weeds between the rows and hoed the seedlings in. All: Old Dobbin has it in his head that racing's in his blood. He thinks about it every day while hobbling through the mud. He feels that up at Ascot he would have the others beat, But how can you win the Derby when you've only got three feet!
[Most verses were rewritten each year from 1979-1981 as shown below]
[1979-81] Oh the Hoodeners are we And next year again you'll see Our disgusting masquerade At St Nicholas-at-Wade Chorus: If ye the Hooden Horse do feed Throughout the year ye shall not need |
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[1979] This old woman is our Molly She looks rather melancholy And as you may now have guessed She would fail any sex test |
[1980] This old woman is our Molly She is feeling rather jolly She is hoping for an ale And to meet a rich young male |
[1981] This old woman is our Moll She's a non-too-happy soul For she was just too effective As an equine contraceptive |
[1979] Now the man in the top hat Who is getting rather fat What he does we do not know But his name, we think, is Joe |
[1980] This man here is known as Joe We're afraid he's rather slow Tends to sink us in the mire For his schemes always misfire |
[1981] Now old Joe thinks he's the boss When we're handling the 'hoss' As he tells us all the way We ignore each word he'll say |
[1980] This lad here, his name is Sam Often gets us in a jam Spends his time a-catching rabbits And collecting nasty habits |
[1981] This lad here his name is Sam Never give him sprouts and ham For they never seem to fail To produce a force nine gale! |
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[1979] This lad here we call our boy Each of us he does annoy: Every time we think he'd dead He gets up and rubs his head |
[1980] Over here we have our boy Each of us he does annoy: He is looking rather queer: He dies sixteen times a year |
[1981; sung before 'Sam' verse] Once again the boy is here And he didn't 'die' this year But we're not sure he'll pull through Hoodening 1982 |
[1979] Now we come to our musician Who, according to tradition Plays the music on the fiddle After that he has a piddle |
[1980] The musician in the middle Who is playing on the fiddle Oh, he thinks he looks so cute - Used his curtains for a suit |
[1981] There's our clever second horse What has vanished now, of course She's disguised out in the middle As the bloke what plays the fiddle |
[1979] We've a Waggoner called Clive He's the latest to arrive On his boots he has manure So he smells just like a sewer |
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[1979] Last of all this is our horse We're afraid he's rather coarse And wherever we have sung He will leave a pile of dung |
[1980 as 1979] |
[1981] Last of all, old Dobbin's snorting Now he's finished his cavorting And wherever he has sung He will leave a pile of dung |
[1979-81] Singing songs gives us a thirst And we're nearly fit to burst If you want to sing a carol You must first bring out a barrel. |
[Chorus]
If I were the Hoodening kind — which thank the Lord I'm not, sir
The kind of Hood'ner I would be, would be a…
Waggoner: Waggoner sir! [Team: Why sir?]
Waggoner: 'cause I'd crack whips, and you'd crack whips
Team: we'd all crack whips together
we'd be alright in the middle of the night
cracking whips together
Sam: Farm hand sir! […] 'cause I'd sow seeds […]
Molly: Molly sir! […] 'cause I'd dress in drag […]
Little Willy: Jockey sir! […] 'cause I'd mount up […]
Big Bill: Big Bill sir! […] 'cause I'd have a baby […]
Musician: Musician sir! […] 'cause I'd have a fiddle […]
Dobbin: Hooden Horse sir! […] 'cause I'd be hung like a donkey […]
Old Dobbin had trouble with long shiny things With galloping gut rot and all that it brings But Molly's new hoover worked well, there's no doubt Cos a suck — not a blow — job soon sorted him out! So we'll sing you a song while we're all gathered here We'll relieve you of cash while we have us some beer! And before we depart there's one thing left to say That we wish you a Merry Christmas the old-fashioned way And Sam doesn't know how new infants are made We thought he'd struck gold and got himself laid But it seems he was lying — it came as a shock When we saw what was hidden up Karma's big frock! Chorus And George has equipment — his own GPS It doesn't work well and he's in a right mess He doesn't quite know if he's here or he's there He'll soon disappear up his own derriere! Chorus It transpires that Molly thinks old Sam's quite fit We just never knew that she fancied a bit But she's really quite fickle — a right flighty job! Cos her head was soon turned when she saw Karma's knob! Chorus
If ye the horse do feed through the year you'll not need, so give us some cash and an ale or two please … an ale or two please. The Hoodeners they call us, and strange things befall us, so we'll sing you a chorus about some of these … about some of these. This lad here called Sam is a dirty old man, and if you hear a noise then it's probably him … it's definitely him. You won't hear him shouting of that there's no doubting but feed him purple sprouting and he'll make a din … when he's got the wind. Old Dobbin's gone bandy through drinking mild shandy which makes him feel randy as randy as Hell … as randy as Hell. Last year with Black Beauty a pint made him fruity, so he did his duty just outside the Bell … right outside the Bell. That reckless liaison on that festive occasion has, after gestation, resulted in that! … so ugly and fat. Our Moll rues the day that the foal came her way, 'cos it rolled in the hay and squashed her pet cat … Moll's moggie went splat! Joe once came a cropper when he told a girl he'd got a whopper, He was taking about his topper but she didn't know … no she didn't know. She looked cold as ice as she kneed him somewhere not too nice, now he wears a device to keep his voice low … it keeps his voice low. Our Boy's getting older and now is much bolder, He met a young girl last week just up the road … only just up the road. A walk round the houses her passion arouses so she poked her hand inside his trousers and found his pet toad … and found his pet toad?? Yes, she poked her hand inside his trousers and there ends our ode.
I am the Hoodeners' waggoner; my friends here call me Joe They'd like to meet more like me; they often tell me so (cries of 'Rubbish' etc.) I know this is the case 'cos to my orders they reply Some words that I've been told may mean 'go forth and multiply' Chorus: The Hoodeners are here, as Christmas time draws near; We'll tell you more about us while you pour out the beer. We hope we've not offended with our little Hoodening play But if we have, give us the beer and we will go away. Old Moll has never been renowned for following the arts; She chatters loud at concerts and at string quartets she… laughs A conductor once had had enough of her disturbing fuss, So he told her what he thought of her — and chucked her off the bus. In summer, Sam had watched the athletes hurdling in the sun He thought it looked quite easy, so he went out for a run Went twice around the village with scarce a moment's rest On leaping 'cross a five-bar gate — he smashed his personal best. Now here we have our fiddler; he's fiddled all his life He fiddled with his income tax and someone else's wife He fiddled with his restaurant bill when he went out to dine Now he fiddles for a living and to pay a hefty fine. Our Boy is being taught by us; he feeds the animals He's learned to plant the Brussels and to chat up all the girls But still he isn't happy; of that we have no doubts; For an early frost had caught him out and withered up his sprouts. Our old Boy plays the organ; he plays it very well And yet he disappoints the girls; why? he can never tell They seem to be excited when he says in tones devout 'Now you sit there and watch me while I get my organ out.' Now Dobbin's hyperactive; he roots around all day Some say it was the seaweed that made him go that way We all have our suspicions; we just don't know the score But someone's painted 'Acid House' upon his stable door. Last chorus: The Hoodeners are here, as Christmas time draws near; We'll tell you more about us while you pour out the beer. We hope we've not offended you 'cos we like coming here So we wish you Merry Christmas and a Prosperous New Year Oh, we wish you Merry Christmas and a Prosperous New Year
Now Christmas is a-coming, the Hoodeners are here. We're only going Hoodening for a mince pie and a beer. Chorus: for a beer or two, beer or two, beer a beer or two [Special verse for each performance; e.g.] Now on the Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday evening At the Solomons/Sun/Bonds/Sarre House/Treveils we will perform We'll stretch out our performance In order to keep warm, with… You don't need all your money, so put some in our pot, We'll use it for a worthy cause and will not spend a jot, on… (Chorus) When Christmas time is over, the Hoodening is all through; it's back to work from dawn to dusk to earn a pound or two, (Chorus) Till next year, it's all through. No more Hoodening shall we do, (Chorus)
Now ploughing's just beginning, We've got our time to spend. We're only going ploughing, To earn a quid if we can. [original: 'Now hopping's just beginning' etc.] Chorus: With an oo ar ay, oo ar ay, oo ar oo ar ay. [original: With a T.I.A., T.I.A., T.I.E.I.A.] Now early Monday morning, The master's never late, Saying, 'Get these horses going And shift them through that gate'. [Original:] Now early Monday morning, The measurer he'll come round, Saying, 'Pick your hops all ready And pick them off the ground'. (Chorus) And early Tuesday morning, The bookie he'll come round With a bag of money, He'll flop it on the ground. (Chorus) Saying, 'Do you want some money?' 'Oo, yes sir, if you please, To buy a pint of bitter [original: a hock of bacon] And a roll of mouldy cheese'. (Chorus) Now ploughing is all over. Our money is all spent. I wish to God I'd never done No ploughing here in Kent (Chorus) I say one, I say two, No more ploughing shall I do. (Chorus)
Based on the 'tradition' of using the latest hits, this was a parody of the number one hit that Christmas, Paul McCartney's 'Rupert & the Frog Song' ('We'll all stand together').
Hoodeners we Are, you see Here just to keep you how you want to be; Feeling right Through tonight We'll all drink together!
(tune taken from the Drunkard's Song; see below)
I once knew a farmer I knew him quite well, And he had a daughter, her name it were Nell, Although she were only the age of sixteen, She wanted to see my old threshing machine. Chorus: I had her, I had her, I had her, I aye! (3 times) And I ups and I shows her the old Kentish way. The barn door lay open so we stepped inside, And there in the corner some hay I espied, So while she worked the throttle and I worked the steam, Together we worked my old threshing machine. Oh farmer, oh farmer! I've come to confess, I've left your young Nell in a hell of a mess, Her clothes are all torn and her … are all bare, And there's something inside her that shouldn't be there. Three months have gone by and the truth's but to tell, There's something the matter with our little Nell, For under her apron can clearly be seen, She's got too much chaff from my threshing machine. Nine months later and all's going well, A son has been born unto our little Nell, And under his nappy can clearly be seen, A brand new two cylinder threshing machine. (The last two verses were seldom sung:) The lad he grew up and his name it were Jim, Then somebody threw a tomato at him. Now tomatoes are soft and they don't hurt the skin; But this bugger did — it were still in the tin! Now Mary, the milkmaid, was milking the cow. She was trying so hard but she didn't know how. Along came the farmer and gave her the sack, So she turned the cow over and poured the milk back!
Didn't we have a horrible time the day we went to Margate? What a helluva fuss when we got on the bus And Dobbin bit the bus conductor… When we got there, we sampled the air, and very nearly fainted, With the sewage, the sea and the fish & chip tea, We all felt bad. We went to a pub and tucked into some grub that tasted really awful. It was winkles and bread; Moll had cockles instead… And was sick all over Joe, and so we Ordered an ale; it smelt very stale — we left it on the table, And countered the odour with whisky and soda, And all felt bad. We staggered along Marine Terrace prom and bumped into a couple of skinheads. They looked very cross, but a glance at our horse Got them running away in the other direction. When we got back, we all hit the sack, so thankful the day was all over. Were it not for the beer, we'd all go next year; It weren't that bad. [VERSION 2:] Didn't we have a horrible time the day we went to Ramsgate? Got caught in the rain while awaiting a train, And Dobbin caught a dose of pneumonia. Moll was a bore, her throat had got sore, 'twas due to constant nagging. She strictly forbade us to play Space Invaders. We all felt bad. We went for some shelter in a helter skelter, the heavens had just opened. We climbed to the top (what a helluva drop) And Sam slipped over, base over apex… Went round and round till he got to the ground, he thought he was a goner. Then a candy floss stick made him violently sick. We all felt bad. We walked round the harbour and what a palaver, Moll slipped up on the jetty. The silly old goat fell onto a boat, Sustained a broken jaw or something. Since she came to grief, it's been a relief, we haven't heard her nagging. I suppose we must say that it weren't a bad day. No, it weren't that bad.
This was rediscovered in 2002 and was later sung to this tune although it is possible the original, different tune was also identified by George Frampton (see below).
We are the Acol Boys We like to share our joys We know our manners And we spend our tanners We are respected wherever we go When we're walking down the street The doors and windows open wide Then you hear the landlord shout 'Put those stinking woodbines out!' We are the Acol Boys We like to share our joys
Apparently the Acol Hoodeners also sang the well-known song, 'The Farmer's Boy', starting 'The sun had set beyond yon hill', for which there are various tunes. We tried it once or twice, both with this tune from Mudcat and with Ye Sons of Albion.
The following section consists of three 'traditional' songs which were actually used by St Nicholas Hoodeners at the turn of the century, and were kindly rediscovered for us by one of the top modern researchers into Hoodening, George Frampton (pic).
The other night I journey'd with some dear old pals of mine Into a little pub, a small harmonic club; A fellow there who thought himself a singer, if you please, Tried to sing 'The Anchor's Weighed' in thirteen different keys. We cried 'Encore!' told him he was fine, Just because he bought us lots of wine. At half past twelve, a little bit insane, Six hooden-ing boys made for home again. All along the rails — what a lively gang! Shouting out the Chorus of every song we sang. We laughed, we chaffed, and told some fairy tales; Playing the harp at two in the morning all along the rails. I acted as the leader, for I thought I knew my way, So shouted out with glee, 'Now, boys, you follow me.' We came across a policeman who was having forty winks; Tried to sneak his helmet and to make him toss for drinks. We'd no gamps, so for nearly half an hour We tramped and tramped all through a lovely shower — When all at once I tumbled, I declare, We walked fifteen times around a square. [Chorus] I clutched hold of some railings that were painted overnight, Got covered all serene with such a lovely green; The servant girl was waiting up, the saucy little saint! I cuddled her, and marked her cotton dress with spots of paint. The wife found out, there was a row, of course — Sacked our girl, and said she'd have divorce. But afterwards I made it right. What ho! And swore a swear that never more I'd go… [Chorus]
Maud had a sweetheart, an airman was he, And she'd watch him fly all the day Diff'rent stunts on the plane he would do Loop the loop and some other tricks too Isn't it wonderful she cried, in ecstacy, And one night, placing her arms round his neck, She said coaxingly: Teach me how to fly, dear, in your aeroplane Up to the clouds we'll go All of a sudden we'll drop down again It's so exhilarating, sailing towards the sky, Hi! Joe, Joe, don't say no, Teach me how to fly! Oh! How exciting, to chase all the clouds, There's not a game like it on earth, When the rain's coming down pit-a-pat, Think how soon we can fly above that! When we are married, dear, what wondrous times there'll be, We spend our weekends at Venus or Mars Only you and me. [Chorus] [A somewhat ruder third verse was written by Jamie May in 2001 and performed once, in the last performance at the Sun.]
A little hole In the ground And the green grass grew all around, all around, And the green grass grew all around. Now in this hole There was a little tree Oh, the cutest little tree That you ever did see. The tree in the hole And the hole in the ground And the green grass grew all around, all around, And the green grass grew all around. Now on this tree There was a little branch Oh, the cutest little branch That you ever did see. The tree in the hole And the hole in the ground And the green grass grew all around [etc.] [Repeated with the following additions:] Now on this branch, there was a little leaf… Now on this leaf, there was a little fuzz… Now on this fuzz, there was a little skeeter [mosquito]… Now on this skeeter, there was a little wing… Now on this wing, there was a little elephant… Now on this elephant, there was a little trunk… Now on this trunk, there was a little suit… Now on this suit, there was a little button… But there wasn't any button hole! And the green grass grew all around, all around, And the green grass grew all around.
The last section contains songs that we sing more or less regularly, but which do not have any specific relationship to Hoodening as far as we know.
Hail to the master and the mistress, Here's to the household one and all, Here we are keeping our old custom, Once in the year we come to call. Now on the Hoodener's night we beg for mistletoe gifts in house and hall. If you have nothing you can give us, Bid us be off upon our way, Only a forfeit we will ask you, Your oldest girl to take away. Once in the year it isn't often, once in the year we come this day. Hail to the master and the mistress, Here's to the household one and all, Here we are keeping our old custom, Once in the year we come to call.
Come Landlord, fill the flowing bowl Until it doth run over, For tonight we'll merry, merry be, Tomorrow we'll be sober. The man that drinketh small beer, And goes to bed right sober, Fades as the leaves do fade, That drop off in October. But the man who drinketh strong beer, And goes to bed right mellow, Lives as he ought to live, And dies a jolly good fellow. The man who kisses a pretty girl, And goes and tells his mother, Ought to have his lips cut off, (3rd time: have his **** cut off) And never kiss another.
Oh it's old and it's cold and it's linkey lankey low, He eateth all my hay and he spoileth all my stro', O neither is he fit at all, all in my coat to bro', So we'll sell him or swap him, chop him or let him hunting go: Poor old horse let him die. O once I lay in stable, free from cold and winter storm, But now have no such usage, to keep me well and warm, I'm forced to lie in the open field, in the cold winter wind, And stay beside a prickly bush some shelter for to find. Poor old horse, till I die. My shoulders that were once so glossy and so round, They now are very rotten, I'm not accounted sound, So now that I grow old, my teeth go to decay, My master frowns upon me, and I often hear him say, Poor old horse, let him die.
Here's a health to the jolly blacksmith, the best of all fellows, Who works at his anvil while the boy blows the bellows, which Chorus: makes my bright hammer to rise and to fall, Here's to old Cole, and to young Cole, and to old Cole of all. Twanky-dillo, twanky-dillo, twanky-dillo, dillo, dillo, dillo. A roaring pair of bagpipes made of the green willow. If a gentleman calls, his horse for to shoe, He makes no denial of one pot or two, for it (Chorus) Here's a health to King Charlie and also his queen, And to all the royal little ones where'er they are seen, which (Chorus)
There was a young lady in our village And in our village did dwell She loved her husband dearly, But another man twice as well. Chorus: With a cuddle me, fuddle me, cuddle me, hey! Cuddle me every day. 2. She went to Dr Eddington To see if she could find Anything in the whole wide world To make her old man blind 3. 'Oh take him sixteen marrow-bones And make him eat 'em all; And when he's finished he'll be so blind He won't see you at all.' [Verse 4 sometimes omitted] 4. The doctor he wrote a letter And sealed it with his hand And he sent it off to the old man To make him understand 5. The old man being a crafty bugger He knew it all before. He ate them up and said, 'My dear, I can't see you at all.' 6. Says she, 'We'll go to the Wantsum River And there perhaps the air Will help you to regain your sight. Come on, I'll guide you there. 7. They walked along together Till they came to the waterside. So gently there she kissed him And did creep away behind. 8. She ran and she ran behind him And she tried to push him in. But the old man was ready and jumped aside And she went tumbling in. 9. Then loudly she did holler And loud for mercy call. But the old man said, 'I am so blind I can't see you at all.' 10. She swam and she swam and she swam around Till she come to the further brim; But the old man got an old tree branch And pushed her further in.
'arf a pound of flour and lard Makes a lovely batter Just enough for you or I Gor Bugger Jacker! On the foc'sle us'll lie 'ave zum starry gazy pie Will 'ee cum'n 'ave a pint of beer with I? Gor Bugger Jacker! Where be 'ee gointer Jacker? Oi be gointer Looe Well? Gor Bugger Jacker Oi be goin there too Where be yon blackbird to? Oi know where 'ee be 'ee be in yon worzel bush An' Oi be arter 'ee Now 'ee minds Oi An' Oi minds 'ee An' 'ee minds Oi be arter 'ee Wi'a bloody great stick Oi'll wallop 'is backside Blackbird, Oi'll smite 'ee
Now as I came home so drunk I couldn't see O there I saw a [horse]; no [horse] should be there I says unto my wife; tell this to me O how comes that [horse] where no [horse] should be? There you old fool, you silly fool, can't you plainly see? O nothing but a [milk cow], my mother sent to me O miles have I travelled, a thousand miles or more O [saddle] on a [milk cow] I've never seen before Repeated changing the words in [brackets] as follows: boots flower pot laces hat chamber pot sweatband man baby boy whiskers Longer version: 7 NIGHTS DRUNK Solo: Oh as I came home on [Monday] night, As drunk as drunk could be I saw a [horse outside the door] where my old [horse] should be So I called my wife and I said to her, 'Would you kindly tell to me Who owns that [horse outside the door] Where my old [horse] should be? All: Oh you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool, Till you canna see; That's [a lovely sow] that my mother sent to me Well it's many a day I travelled, a hundred miles or more But a [saddle on] a [sow] sure I never saw before Similarly: Tuesday … I saw a coat behind the door… … That's a woollen blanket… But buttons on a blanket sure I never saw before. Wednesday … I saw a pipe upon the chair… … That's a lovely tin whistle… But tobacco in a tin whistle sure I never saw before. Thursday … I saw two boots beneath the bed… … That's two lovely geranium pots… But laces in geranium pots sure I never saw before. Friday … I saw a head inside the bed… … That's a baby boy… But a baby boy with whiskers on I never saw before. Saturday … I saw a whip upon the floor… … That's a lovely pet python… But a python with nine tails sure I never saw before. Sunday … I saw a bod upon my wife… … That's a massage machine… But a massage machine with buttocks on I never saw before.
(apparently sung by the gypsie brothers Frank and Bill ['Mousey'] Smith, both tambourine virtuosi, at Edenbridge in 1967; also by their kinsman Walter Smith at Horsmonden in 1962; similar to another called 'Villikins and his Dinah'; and adapted by us for 'Threshing Machine' as shown above.)
Now when I were a young man I took great delight, Then I sat down a-drinking from morning till night; I sat down a-drinking till I spent all my store, So after I was spent out, how could I spend more? Now as I rambl'd up the street I rambl'd down, For I met my landlady dress'd in her silk gown, For my jacket tore at elbows, my breeches from knees, Lord, how my landlady she gazed at me. [Now as I have a wife and six children small Since I took to drinking I've ruin'd them all But if I had been ruled by my wife at first I'd have silver in my pocket and gold in my purse.] You begone, you bold drunkard, you begone from me now, If you call for the best ale, I'll bring you the dregs, If you call for the best ale, I'll bring you the dregs, There's landladies wear silks, and drunkards wear rags. No longer could I stand it, up to her I went, Do I owe you any money for what you reckon? Do I pay you ready money, for my bacca and ale? Or else I wouldn't go in this old ragged style.
Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, Now to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting extravagant queen, And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Chorus: Let the toast pass, drink to the lass, I warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize, Now to the damsel with none sir, Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And now to the nymph with but one sir. (Chorus) Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, Now to her that's as brown as a berry, Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, And here's to the damsel that's merry. (Chorus) For let her be clumsy or let her be slim, Young or ancient, I care not a feather; So fill up a bumper, nay, fill to the brim, And e'en let us toast 'em together. (Chorus)
1. Solo: Are there any young maids in here? All: Hey dingadoorum down Solo: Are there any young maids in here? All: Hey doorum down Solo: Are there any young maids in here? I've a word for your ear; Maids when you're young never wed an old man Chorus: For they've got no faloorum, faliddle faloorum They've got no faloorum, faliddle all day They've got no faloorum, they've lost their dingdoorum! Maids when you're young never wed an old man 2. An old man came courting her Asked could he marry her 3. When they went to church He left her in the lurch 4. When they went to bed He lay like he was dead 5. So she threw her leg over him Damn' well near smothered him 6. Solo: When he went to sleep All: Hey dingadoorum down Solo: When he went to sleep All: Hey doorum down Solo: When he went to sleep Out of bed she did creep Into the arms of a jolly (/charming) young man Chorus: And he got her faloorum, faliddle faloorum He got her faloorum, faliddle all day He got her faloorum and she found his dingdoorum Maids when you're young always wed a young man ['got'/'found' in last chorus sometimes reversed] Additional verses by AJ for Boyden Gate, 1979: Solo: Oh, once in this place Marshside, All: Hey dingadoorum down Solo: Oh, once in this place Marshside, All: Hey doorum down Solo: A shepherd went wand'ring wide, You guess what he espied — Two people having it o-off outside. Chorus: Oh, they had some faloorum, faliddle faloorum They had some faloorum, faliddle all day They had some faloorum and they got some ding-dorum. Maids when you're young never wed an old man. Solo: Now that jolly couple there, All: Hey dingadoorum down Solo: Now that jolly couple there, All: Hey doorum down Solo: Who they were I don't care But this much I will swear — Each of those lovers had very grey hair. Chorus: Oh, they had some faloorum, faliddle faloorum They had some faloorum, faliddle all day They had some faloorum and they got some ding-dorum. Maids when you're old, why not try an old man?
Number 1, number 1, Now my song has just begun Wi'a Rum-tum-taddle-um, Ould John Braddleum Hey, what country folks we be. 2: Some boots pinch, so gie I a shoe 3: Some likes coffee and some likes tea 4: Some says nowt but think the more 5: Ould folks die when they can't stop alive 6: Some use crutches when they can't use sticks 7: Some likes t'other place, gie I heaven 8: Some folks drink till they can't walk straight 9: Some drinks beer cos they can't get wine 10: There bean't no women where there bean't no men 11: Much about t'same as as number seven 12: If you wants any mowre you can sing it yourselves
Here we come a-wassailing, Among the leaves so green, Here we come a-wandering, So fair to be seen. Chorus: Love and joy come to you, And to you your wassail too, And God bless you and send you a happy New Year, And God send you a happy New Year. We are not daily beggars, That beg from door to door, But we are neighbour's children, Whom you have seen before. We have got a little purse of stretching leather skin; We want a little of your money to line it well within.
Wassail, wassail, all over the town! Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown, Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree, With the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee. So here is to Cherry and to his right cheek, Pray God send our master a good piece of beef, And a good piece of beef that may we all see; With the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee. And here is to Dobbin and to his right eye, Pray God send our master a good Christmas pie, And a good Christmas pie that may we all see; With the wassailing bowl we'll drink to thee. Come, butler, come fill us a bowl of the best Then we hope that your soul in heaven may rest But if you do draw us a bowl of the small Then down shall go butler, bowl and all. Then here's to the maid in the lily white smock, Who tripped to the door and slipped back the lock! Who tripped to the door and pulled back the pin, For to let these jolly wassailers in. (Cherry and Dobbin are horses)
Wassail and wassail, All over the town, Our cup it is white and our ale it is brown, The bowl it is made of the good ashen tree, And it's joy be to you and a jolly wassail. Chorus: For it's your wassail, And it's our wassail, And it's joy be to you and a jolly wassail. The girt dog of Langport, He burnt his long tail, And this is the night we go singing wassail. O master and mistress, Now we must be gone, Got bless all in this house till we do-o come again.
We wish you a Merry Christmas (3) And a Happy New Year Chorus: Good tidings we bring to you and your kin We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year Now bring us some figgy pudding (3) And bring some out here! (Chorus) For we all like figgy pudding (3) So bring some out here (Chorus) And we won't go until we get some So bring some out here (Chorus — repeat last line)
A few 'proper' musicians have done songs about Hoodening, including the late Phil Martin (a.k.a. Drohne) who once did a radio sketch on the same theme. His "The Hooden Horse, An Dro" (<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Dro">An-Dro is a kind of Breton folk dance</a>) can be heard in its studio version here on Bandcamp. and seen live in the YouTube video below:
The above site is an archived version, and his MySpace files also now seem inaccessible, but it is worth searching out his other music too where you can find it, including his English bagpipes and Gower wassailing song from the same St Nicholas-at-Wade church concert as above.
Produced by Ben Jones (contact details). All rights reserved. .
