George Formby Song-book: It Serves You Right-1943
with lyrics and chords

A Complete(ish),George Formby Song-book also with PDF version for download.

It Serves You Right-1943
  Regal Zonophone MR3723 Box/Cox/Formby

Ever since the days of old the Navy's ruled the waves.
For years they've told the world that Britain's never shall be slaves.
The Navy still remembers and you'll often hear them say
What Nelson told Napoleon upon Trafalgar day.

It serves you right, you shouldn't have joined, it jolly well serves you right.
It serves you right, you shouldn't have joined, you might have been sitting tight
You might have been in Civvy Street instead of in the fight
But it serves you right, you shouldn't have joined, it jolly well serves you right

And it's no use kicking up a row because your nobody's sweetheart now.
You can weep and sigh and pipe your eye but still youre in the fight
It serves you right, you shouldn't have joined, it jolly well serves you right.

I wouldn't mind the Navy if the blinking ship were still
It's all this bobbing up and down that makes me feel so ill.
The seas alright for sharks and whales and things the like of that
But I'd rather stick my Marlin's Pike in llkley Moor ba'tat

But It serves me right, I shouldn't have joined, it jolly well serves me right
It serves me right, I shouldn't have joined, I might have been sitting tight.
When I was cleaning windows I would keep em nice and bright
But now I'm polishing portholes, rubbing them up with all me might.

And it's no use kicking up a row because I'm nobody's sweetheart now.
One day up in the crows nest I was feeling bright and gay
'Til the captain shouted Dont come down, we've taken the ship away'.
I used to be a chimney sweep in dear old Wigan town.
I used to do the lady's down the street for half a crown
But now I don't get nothing for the little jobs I do.
I wish I was in Wigan sweeping Mrs. Jones's flue.

But it serves me right, I shouldn't have joined, it jolly well serves me right
It serves me right, I shouldn't have joined, I might have been sitting tight.
I thought in every port I'd get a cuddle every night
But all I've done is cuddle a gun and work up an appetite.

And it's no use kicking up a row because I'm nobody's sweetheart now.
There's a draught around my fore and aft my jumper's much too tight
I've got barnacles on my binnacle and it ruddy well serves me right.