Folk and Traditional Song Lyrics:
Rest of the Day
The Rest of the Day
The Rest of the Day
(Jack Lane?)
One day when I was out of work a job I went to seek
To be a farmer's boy
At last I found an easy job at half-a-crown a week
To be a farmer's boy
The farmer said"I think I've got the very job for you
Your duties will be light for this is all you've got to do
Rise at three every morn,milk the cow with the crumpled horn
Feed the pigs,clean the sty,teach the pigeons the way to fly
Plough the fields,mow the hay,help the cocks and hens to lay
Sow the seed,tend the crops,chase the flies from the turnip tops
Clean the knives,black the shoes,scrub the kitchen and sweep the flues
Help the wife wash the pots,grow the cabbages and carrots
Make the beds,dust the coals,mend the gramophone
And if theres no more work to do the rest of the day's your own"
I scratched my head and thought it would be absolutely fine
To be a farmer's boy
The farmer said"Of course you'll have to do some overtime
When you're a farmers boy"
Said he"The duties that I have given you you'll be quickly through
So i've been thinking of a few more things that you can do
Skim the milk,make the cheese,chop the meat for the sausage-es
Bath the kids,mend their clothes,use your dial to scare the crows
In the milk put the chalk,shave the knobs of the pickled pork
Shoe the horse,break the coal,take the cat for his midnight stroll
Cook the food,scrub the stairs,teach the parrot to say his prayers
Roast the joint,bake the bread,shake the feathers up in the bed
When the wife has the gout rub,her funny bone
And then if theres no more work to do the rest of the day's your own"
I thought is was a shame to take the money,you can bet
To be a farmers boy
And so I wrote my duties down in case I might forget
I was a farmers boy
It took all night to write 'em down, didn't go to bed
But somehow I got all mixed up and this is how they read:
Rise at three every morn,milk the hen
Scrub the wife every day,teach the nanny goat to lay
Shave the cat,mend the cheese,fit the tights on the sausage-es
Bath the pigs,break the pots,boil the kids with a few carrots
Roast the horse,dust the bread,put the cocks and the hens to bed
Boots and shoes,black with chalk,shave the hair on the pickled pork
All the rest I forgot,somehow it had flown
But I got the sack this morning so the rest of my life's my own
Taken from the book "The Song And The Story"
songs of Isla StClair.
A Music Hall song from the singing of Jack Lane 1915.
WX
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