My Roly Poly Girl


Words & Music: Jake Thackray

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I’ve gone and lost my sweetheart and I don’t know where to look :
oh, she was big and she was bonny, and stap me vittles, she could cook !
And I hanker for her lips…
oh, I hanker after her eyes…
for her patties, for her chips…
her little whortleberry pies…

Who took my cook, stole my Roly Poly Girlie ?
Where must I look, and what have I got to do ?
By hook, by crook, I’ll get him by the short-and-curlies.
Who took my cook ? It better not be you.

She was working down the butcher’s, baking little crusty pies :
when I saw her pretty chitterlings, I felt my juices rise.
“Come, cook me my goose,” I cried,
“braise me broccoli, boil me peas,
whip me a crab-apple mousse,
and a glass of water, please.”

Who took my cook, stole my Roly Poly Girlie ?
Where must I look, and what have I got to do ?
By hook, by crook, I’ll get him by the short-and-curlies.
Who took my cook ? It better not be you.

Day by day, she did me dainties, for me, for nobody else :
what junketing, what jellies, oh, what winkles, what whelks !
Oh, the eyes I used to make…
oh, the lips I used to lick…
for her frothy fairy cake, her fairy cake…
for her fluffy spotted dick…

Who took my cook, stole my Roly Poly Girlie ?
Where must I look, and what have I got to do ?
By hook, by crook, I’ll have him by the short-and-curlies.
Who took my cook ? It better not be you.
But where, oh where’s my sweeting now ? Where, where am I to search ?
She upped and offed and left me and my stomach in the lurch.
Somebody else feasts on her hair…
somebody else drinks in her eyes…
getting more than his fair share
of her gooseberry surprise…

Who took my cook, stole my Roly Poly Girlie ?
Where must I look ? Wherever can she be ?
By hook, by crook, I’ll have him by the short-and-curlies.
If you’ve got my cook, mate, you’ll be a damn sight fatter than me.

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