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Cowheel Lou


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I stumbled across this on another Forum, enjoy.

 

 

THE BALLAD OF COWHEEL LOU by Mike Harding

 

North Of Oldham South of Diggle there lies a town called Mumps Where the tripe mines stand just by the washhouse wall

And in that deserted town where the shacks are tumbling down You can hear the scabby moggies lonesome call

 

Years ago this town was booming when the tripe rush days were on And the miners they rolled in from far and near

In the 'Sweaty Clog' saloon they were supping night and noon Sarsaparilla, liquorice juice and privet beer.

 

Now she was a good time dancing gal, any tripe miners pal For a bottle of Brasso she'd love you all night through

She was rough and she was tough, she wore no vest and took black snuff And was known to all the lads as Cowheel Lou.

 

Now Lou had one special man, his name was Dangerous Albert He sucked Fiery Jack and camphorated oil

He wore barbed wire combinations and slept rough on Oldham station And Wimpy used his dandruff for hardcore.

 

Now one stormy night in Mumps when the rain came down in lumps And the wind blew empty tins off Saddleworth Moor

In the 'Sweaty Clog' saloon the pianola played a tune And Lou was sewing mudflaps on her drawers.

 

While a gang of tripe prospectors and a couple of tram inspectorsWere gambling all their pay on snakes and ladders

While a pair of Huddersfield tramps were supping the oil from the lamps And Albert was trying to kickstart the pianola.

 

Well, the doors busted open wide and a stranger come inside It was Spotty Bum McGrew the lame evangelist

He was an hop-along bible thumper, he kept a white rat up his jumper And in his hand he held a tambourine.

 

He said " I'm looking for a man as how they call him Dangerous Albert I've heard as how he's known around this part."

Well the pianola stopped its tune and a hush came on the room So quiet you could hear a cockroach fart.

 

Said the stranger, "Me and Al, we were buddies he was my pal In the salvation army band we both did play

'til one night we went on booze, he ripped up me shirt and widdled in my shoes He blew his nose on me vest and smashed me tambourine!"

 

Then Albert caught his eye and the stranger gave a cry And leapt upon the bar with a scream of rage

Then Albert gave a shout and whipped his weapon out And in his hand he held a tambourine

 

Now tales have been told of what took place that night The fiercest fight that Mumps has ever seen

How Spotty Bum McGrew and the lover of Cowheel Lou Fought to the very death, each with their tambourine.

 

All night long they did do battle and their tambourines did rattle Spotty Bum's teeth went flying in the grime

They knocked off Albert's hat and hit the landlords cat And stopped to suck a lemon at half time.

Now the second half got dirty as they were both feeling a bit shirty Spotty Bum hit Albert with his rubber leg

Cowheel Lou could stand no more, she picked up pianola from floor Chucked it and killed them both stone dead.

 

Now north of Oldham south of Diggle, there's a broken hearted gal Who tends the grave so cold and so bare

For at Clog Hill above the valley where the wind howls night and day Spotty Bum and dangerous Albert are buried there.

 

So if you go 'cross Saddleworth Moor where the wind whips up from Diggle And you think you hear thunder in the east

Its not thunder 'cross those hillocks it's the ghost of those two pillocks Knocking buggery out of each other with their tambourines.

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i like this one myself.

 

COSMO, THE FAIRLY ACCURATE KNIFE THROWER

by

Les Barker

 

Roll up, roll up... cried the Ringmaster

See the man on the flying trapeze

The one we've just fitted with elastic

That's him, over there... in the trees.

 

"Where's Cosmo, the fairly accurate knife thrower?"

The girl with the baby said

Her name was Lucille, they knew Cosmo'd know her

She still had a knife in her head.

 

"He's back there in the procession." said the Ringmaster

Pointing to an old, half timbered Morris

It's Cosmo, the fairly accurate knife thrower

And his lovely assistant, Doris.

 

Lucille stormed up to him in anger

Gave him the baby, he didn't resist

Shamed by the memory of the night she conceived

He'd aimed for her sister... and missed.

 

Little did she know that the child Cosmo gained

On that morning's Morris Traveller ride

Would become the world famous stunt man

'Evil Shameevil' and his Yammershitty 1- 2- 5

 

He grew up a child of the circus

Rode the Big Dipper, The Dodgems, The Ghost Train

With 'Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower'

And his lovely assistant, Elaine.

 

Once upon a time, they kept marine mammals

But everyone was agin' it

And now the pool stands empty

There isn't any porpoise in it.

 

Evil set the animals free

'Cos that's what he knew they would wish

You can't keep animals in cages, these days

And it never worked that well with the fish.

 

And soon he was the star of the circus

The Morris Traveller still travelling on

With 'Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower'

And his lovely assistant, Yvonne.

 

Poor Cosmo was on the decline

He was hitting the 'Boddingtons' Loopy Juice

And in one afternoon... hit two lovely assistants

Fourpassers by and a migrating Canada Goose.

 

But his circus was making a fortune

And the audiences willingly paid it

To see Evil leap over thirty 'National Front' members

And cheered when he never quite made it.

 

And before he got out of the ring

The next act would kill two or three

It was 'Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower'

And his lovely assistant, Marie.

 

And the climax of Evil's career

Was announced with fanfare and fuss

He'd leap over 42 motor bikes

In a corporation, double decker bus.

 

It was on the 1- 8- 9 to stockport

That Evil set out after his dream

Drove at Seventy five miles an hour down Wellington Road North

Towards the 'Little Sisters of the Poor' formation motor bike team.

 

Some say the big lady on the back seat stood up

But they found a puncture in the front wheel

And a knife enscribed,

"To Cosmo, The Fairly Accurate Knife Thrower'

From his lovely assistant, Lucille.

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