written & performed by
Jack Warner

There are lots of funny jobs we never hear of now-a-days, 
For folks can get a living in so many funny ways. 
Now take old Will, a pal of mine, he earns a decent screw 
At a job that's rather funny but quite necessary too:

He's a kind o' whelk uncurler in a fish bar. 
He's a whelk unwinder working every day. 
He shells whelks as he finds them 
And he carefully unwinds them 
In case the little brown bit breaks away. 
Now whelks don't look like whelks when all in pieces 
So they must be handled tenderly, like silks, 
And a bar can't do without a 
Proper good whelk puller-outer, 
That's why Will's working there unwinding whelks.
When a painter's painting houses he has got to have a mate 
Who'll do his little bit below and hold the ladder straight. 
He does no work but still he's worth his wages, every bob, 
And I know someone working now at this important job: 

He's a ladder holder-upper for a painter. 
He's a ladder leaner-on'er, that's his trade. 
On the bottom rung he huddles 
And the painter's legs he cuddles 
So the painter chap of falling ain't afraid. 
Now a painter ain't an acrobatic tumbler 
And if he tumbles down he surely gets a shake 
But he's just as safe as houses 
If he don't fall through his trousers 
While the ladder leaner-on'er keeps awake.
 Another chap was very keen to learn about first aid 
They taught him to roll bandages, and just how splints were made 
But all his bandages rolled off, his splints they splintered too, 
But now at last they've found a job that he can really do:

He's the man who fans the females when they've fainted 
He's the fainting females fanner is friend Fred. 
And he makes such gentle breezes, 
Like a sparrow when it sneezes, 
That his fame at fanning females far has spread. 
Now our Fred has found he's got a female fan-mail 
And a fan called Freckled Fan he's made his bride 
He picked her for her figure 
Cause she's twenty stone or bigger, 
For to fan his fat fan Fan fills Fred with pride.
Of all the fine and funny occupations I recall 
The job of Tommy Tucker is the funniest of all 
Many ladies visit him and bring their poodles by the way, 
You can see them lining up outside his street door any day: 

He's a posher-up o' poodles, poms and puppies, 
He's a poodle posher, nothing more or less. 
But he's no know-nothing noodle 
When he's poshing up a poodle 
For his poodle poshing-up's a big success. 
He trims their hair and tittivates their whiskers, 
Then he dabs the dirty dial of every pup, 
And the ladies, presents send him, 
For they highly recommend him 
As a poodle, pom and puppy posher-up. 
Now since I'm back in civvy-street I've met a lot of men
Who were also in the Forces, now they're back at work again
Some told me of the jobs they'd got but the strangest one I'll wager
Is the one I've heard that's been conferred on our old Sergeant Major,

He's Auntie Winnie in the women's tuppenny weekly
He's the lady with the understanding heart
And the Sarg as Auntie Winnie reads a sad appeal from Minnie
For advice about her romance torn apart
So he gazes at his size eleven slippers
Drinks a tot of rum then sends her this reply
'I will help you never fear, with men, just do as I do, dear
Be kind and gentle and perhaps a little shy.'
Now although the war's been over just a year ago last May
There are quite a lot of buildings that are eye-sores as they say
Well, a pal of mine has got a job that really is a treat
You can see him working hard where there are shelters in the street,
He's a shoveller up of shattered shamble shelters
He's a shattered shelter shoveller-up and yet
When he's sees those cracks and fisures he comes over all ambitious
For another little job he'd like to get
And it's a well paid job that calls for lots of courage
For to enter those dark shelters takes some pluck
And before he starts the bashing he warns courting couples mashing
'Cos he don't like damaged lovers on his truck.
I'm what they calls a Trusserupperturkeys
A Turkeytrusserupperer, I be
I works late in December, an' I'm a paid up member
Of the Turkeytrussers Union, you see
I never picks no fevvers - I should worry
That's a different branch of industry, not arf
Of course, I 'as a mate, provided by the State
('E's wot they calls a 'Supplimentary Starf')
'Is job is to 'old the string. an' pass the skewers
Nah an' then 'e makes a cuppa tea
By workin' night an' day, 'E 'opes to be, one day
A Turkeytrusserupperer, like me.
I'm a Cutteruppercatsmeat in a cafe
Where they serve a 'Special Lunch' fer two-an'-free
I cuts up chunks of 'orse fer 'Curried Beef' o' course
An' 'Shepherds Pie' an' 'Sossige Meat' yer see
I started at the bottom cuttin' rabbits
An' arter years o' study, got to pork
I sat fer me exams, an' passed in cuttin' 'ams
An' won a silver-'andled knife-an'-fork
I claims to be the King of Cutteruppers
An' when that big new whalin' vessel sails
I'll be right there on board, bein' treated like a lord
The Super-Champion Cutterupper Whales.
I'm a Flipperupper Flap-Jacks in a factory
I flips the flippin' flap-jacks in the air
The workers all agree there ain't no bloke like me
For flippin', flippin' flap-jacks, anywhere
I flipped a flap-jack in the air this mornin'
It went up 'igher than the eye can see
It went so flippin' 'igh, it stayed up in the sky
An' only just come dahn in time fer tea
There ain't no easy road to flippin' flap-jacks
I studied 'ard fer firty flippn' years
By 'ook, or flippin' crook, I'm gonna write a book
Called 'Flippin', Flippin' Flap-Jacks Wivout Tears.'
I'm a member of a family that's got some funny jobs
Tho' they're jobs that must be done right on the spot
Well, take my cousin Charlie, now 'e works hard if yer like
Shall I tell yer all abaht the job 'e's got
Well, 'e's a bloke wot cuts up apples in a fruit shop
'E's a apple-cutter-up for makin' jam
When I say 'e cuts up apples
I don't mean 'e cuts up onions
'Cause they never ever make that kind of jam
It's a good job 'e doesn't cut up onions
'Cause all day long yer see 'e'd be in tears
But all the time there's apples
There'll be cutters-up of apples
So it looks as though 'e's gotta job for years.

An' then o' course yer see there's my young cousin Agnis'is Jane
Some call 'er Ag for short. She's long and thin
And the sorta job she's doin', well, it reely is a tear up
I'll tell yer jes' wot kind o' job she's in
She's a gal wot tears orf buttons in a laundry
She's a button-ripper-orf, see wot I mean?
The end