Gary Hogg

There's a chip shop on Amblethwaite High Street
That's owned by a bloke called Jed Craddock
I was in t'other night on me way from the pub
I forget what I got - probbly 'addock

As usual it weren't ready so I just had to wait
So I sat and got talking to Ted
He says "Taters have gone up to a shilling a pound,
Oh, and Joe Pringle the milkman's dropped dead"

I was shocked I said, "Never!" he said, "Aye" I said "No!"
I had to sit down, I said, "When?"
He says "Starting today they're a shilling a pound"
I said "What price'll four pennorth be then?"

"They'll have to be sixpence by my workings out,
And that's still eating in to me profits"
I says "Well I'll have to cut down to just five nights a week,
Cos when I tell our Mary she'll go off it"

It was next morning I remembered Joe Pringle
When I was raking the back of the grate
  And how Jed had said as he'd snuffed it
To be fair, I had been in a state

He was a lovely old lad was Joe Pringle
The sort of man you don't meet every day
Unless'n of course he's your milkman
Which he was, so you would, I dare say

They weren't regular churchgoers, the Pringles
Not cos they were heathens nor nowt
Just they never seemed to get round to it
Well not until Joseph pegged out

The Minister called round the day after he died
"Ah, your Worship, come in" says Irene
And she showed him through into the parlour
Where Joe was laid out all serene

She'd lit a few candles, she didn't know why
She'd seen it one time on TV
And the vicar said a prayer and blessed him and that
And then she poured him a nice cup of tea

He had a sip, then he says "What hymns did he like?"
"Well I don't really know", says Irene
She thought for a while then she says with a smile
"The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen?"
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