Scallywag


Words & Music: Jake Thackray

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Village scallywag, blackguard of the neighbourhood,
No good, you scandalise, your name is mud,
But it's no surprise.
They say you nick their chickens and you fish their pools,
Poor fools, if they but knew the half that you do
They'd be rather surprised.

Though your muddy boots flap, though your britches let the sunshine inside,
Susan, the parson's eldest, seems to find them irresistible.
She's only got to give you the eye, eye, eye and in the by and by
You'll be around after evensong on tippy-toe,
Tapping at her window when it gets dark.

You smoke your evil-smelling shag, and you get drunk as a newt
To boot, and this mortifies the Ladies' Institute,
Which is no surprise.
And they say you plunder their washing lines for your clothes.
God knows! If they realised what you filch besides
They'd be rather surprised.

You, your bold brown eyes, your whippy hips, your melting smile.
Winifred, the teacher at the school is not as snooty as she'd like to make out.
She knows that if she gives you the eye, eye, eye that in the by and by
You'll come early from the Pack Horse taproom on tippy-toe,
Tapping at her window when it gets dark.

You were rowdy, you were ribald at the Cricket Tea.
Dear me! By jingo! By Gad! The fella's a cad!
Well, it's no surprise.
And you've been seen to spit upon the magistrate's car!
His motor car! You'll be chastised, you go too far.
But it's no surprise.

For although Rosie, the greengrocer's girl curls her nose up as you swagger by,
Shy little slyboots, she peeps when her old man's back is turned.
She knows that if she gives you the eye, eye, eye that in the by and by,
You'll come tripping through her daddy's curly kale on tippy-toe,
Tapping at her window when it gets dark.

So don't give a toss for the gossip and the tit-for-tat
Chit-chat, they're only upset that you're not dead yet,
Which is no surprise.
And you can let them cock their snooks at you
and pooh-pooh, for, as I surmise, they envy you
And I'm not surprised.

It's no wonder when you wash your back down by the riverside
Even the local countess finds it hard to look away as you scrub.
She's only got to give you the eye, eye, eye, and in the by and by,
You'll pussyfoot through the squire's rhododendrons on tippy-toe,
Tapping at her window when it gets dark.
Ever so dark.
Right dark.
Scallywag.


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