Cenotaph, The

Words & Music: Jake Thackray

Eileen Barrowclough
Betty Nelson
Susan Haverley
Kitty Whittaker
Cecilia Woodhead, poor Cecilia
Dorothy Townend, he wasn’t good to her
Big Mad Bentley, all those children
Young Molly Kershaw, she could not believe it
Amy Butterworth, died soon afterwards
Catherine Armitage, who was unfaithful
Little Cissie Metcalf, she’s never been the same since

The middle of the village is the village Cenotaph
Steps of Tuscan marble and a Latin epitaph
It’s there on temperate afternoons the sodding village elders sit
And knock their poxy pipes out and blasphemously spit

Oh brother greybeards, we are heroes
We know that there is blacker shag than yours
Like the shepherd limping to the hillside, brothers
We have all been gobbed upon before

Upon this ivied monolith the passing pigeon rest
And the sparrow and the chiff-chaff impertinently nest
The local whipper-snappers lounge there and offend the passers-by
Insolently lolling on the place where heroes lie, lie, they lie

Oh brother riff-raff, we are heroes
We know that there is bigger cheek than yours
Like the plough-boy stumbling on the furrow, brothers
We have all been sat upon before

The clumsy lover and his darling come and shyly intertwine
And the humble love they make resounds around the hollow shrine
For life goes surging, surging on upon the names of those who fell
Her buttocks thudding shudder, his involuntary yell, yell, yell

Oh happy lovers, we are heroes
We know there’s bigger jiggery-poke than yours
Like the weeping orphan, like the staring widow
We have all been jumped upon before

A version recorded for the TV series The Camera And The Song, available on the Jake Thackray At The BBC DVD set from this website, has slight changes to the lyrics :

Eileen Barrowclough
Betty Nelson
Susan Haverley
Kitty Whittaker
Celia Woodhead, poor Cecilia
Dorothy Townend, he was good to her
Big Maggie Bentley, all those children
Young Molly Kershaw, couldn’t believe it
Amy Butterworth, died soon after
Kathy Armitage, was unfaithful
Little Cissie Metcalfe, never been the same

The centre of the village is the village Cenotaph
With steps of Yorkshire granite and a Latin epitaph
It’s there on temperate afternoons the nodding village elders sit
And knock their poxy pipes out and blasphemously spit.

Oh brother greybeard, we were heroes
We know that there is blacker shag than yours
Like the shepherd limping to his hillside, brother
We have all been gobbed upon before

Around the solemn monolith the passing partridge rest
And the sparrow and the chiff-chaff impertinently nest
The local whippersnappers lounge there and offend the passers-by
Insolently lolling on the place where heroes lie

Oh brother riff raff, we were heroes
We know that there is bigger cheek than yours
Like the ploughboy stumbling on the furrow, brother
We have all been sat upon before

A lover and his darling come and shyly intertwine
And the humble love they make resounds around our hollow shrine
Yes, life goes surging on upon the names of those who fell
Her joyous buttocks thudding, his involuntary yell

Oh happy lovers, we were heroes
We know there’s bigger jiggery-poke than yours
Like the weeping orphan, like the staring widow
We have all been jumped upon before

Johnny Inman,
Robert Jackman,
Harry Kirkley,
John and Walter Limmer,
Johnny Lambert,
Tom Nicholls,
Ellis Richmond,
Tom Walters,
Edgar Whittaker,
Sidney Wood,
John Woodfield,
Hubert…