Come Day, Go Day, God Send Sunday by Robin Morton

Come Day, Go Day, God Send Sunday by Robin Morton

Author:Robin Morton [Morton, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Science, Media Studies
ISBN: 9781317300885
Google: YkxACwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Routledge
Published: 2015-12-22T02:51:28+00:00


The Glasgow Barber

When first I sailed over from Belfast to Greenock,

My blood felt congealed I was leaving the sod.

My heart swelled as big as the cot I sailed o’er on,

When the gaffer had refused to give Paddy a job.

I landed in Glasgow, inquired for Queen Street,

Called into a barber he bid me sit down.

He placed me real fair in the arms of a chair

And he covered me o’er with his grandmother’s gown.

Says he, ‘Is it shaving?’ I says, ‘Are you raving?

It’s the hair on me head I want cut in a row;

Before you’d be going I’d like you’d be knowing

It’s the style that we have in the County Mayo.’

Well he placed a steel clinker above my eye winker,

You’d have swore it was the ramps of Moll Brannigan’s fan.

He oiled it and sleeked it, he combed it and streaked it,

He oiled front and rear with his two little hands.

He says, ‘Irish Pat you’ll pay fourpence for that,

It’s a cut that an Irishman seldom do show.

It’s the ladies conceit, aye and ne’er will you greet

When you land with your friends in the County Mayo.’

‘Bad winds dear soul do you think I’m a loobey?

Oh hell to your soul sure the hair was me own;

And before I’d make bargain with the landlords of Scotland,

I’d rather make bargain with the landlords at home.’

He called in two bobbies for to take Irish Paddy,

With hats on their heads like large rucks of straw,

Says they, ‘toramusha’, I says, ‘arra-gusha!’

It’s a word that we use in the County Mayo.

Well they took to their batons, I took to me stick,

And the police and barber I soon did take down.

I left them a mark for to buy sticking plasters,

And I straight took my way to the east of the town.

When I looked in the glass you’d ’a swore I was an ass,

My lugs stood so high and my head it hung low.

Bad luck to his tristles, his bells and steam whistles

And hurrah for the girls in the County Mayo.

Well there’s another song I think it’s a kind of Scotch song. I learned it from a fellow that come out of America the name of Cadden. He sung it when he came home on holiday and I picked it up from him.



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