Listen to an MP3 version by Roy Hudd.
Wiv 'Arry Brown, a pal of mine,
At night I often go,
Round to a pub, a little pub,
A cosy little show!
A widow lady keeps it,
And there's one thing very clear,
'E finks a lot more of the widow
Than 'e does the beer.
And while they tell their little tales
Of love across the bar,
I keeps me "Chivvy Chase" inside a pot.
'E's very slow
And so I whispers in his ear,
Every opportunity I've got:
"'Arry, 'Arry, 'Arry - 'Arry,
You've got a chance to marry,
A nice little widow, with a nice little pub,
Plenty of bacca, beer, and plenty of grub.
I could come round and see you,
And keep you company,
It would be nice for you and her,
And wouldn't it be nice for me."
Now 'Arry is so awkard,
Why, he don't know what to do,
Proposing ain't in his line,
So I'm going to pull him through.
I'll write it out on paper
So as 'e can make a start.
'E'll take it 'ome one evening,
And he'll learn it all by heart.
And when 'e gets 'is courage up,
And throws it off 'is chest,
She''l take 'im on wivout the slightest fear.
And when the job is over,
And they start their honeymoon,
Why, I can stop at 'ome and mind the beer.
When we go round each evening,
And we 'elp 'er shut the pub,
She takes us in the parlour,
And she fills us up with grub.
And when the suppers over,
Well, o' course, well, there you are!
To give them both a chance,
I always stroll into the bar.
But there 'e sits a moping,
Wiv 'is thumb stuck in 'is mouth,
At courting 'e's as lazy as a Turk!
I told 'im only yesterday,
If something wasn't done,
The pair of us would have to go to work!