Norman Long
Now, there's things what makes yer angry
And there's things what makes yer larf
Like the time I was in our local
Knockin' back a 'arf.
The barmaid says', "You look fed up!"
I says, "Yes, and so would you!"
'Cos there's capers I don't 'old with
And I'll tell yer one or two.

Now what about this yankee game
Of puttin' beer in tins
Now there's a funny lark...
Don't 'old with it.
When I leans up against the bar
With a tankard in me 'and
Well, that's alright... but fancy, 
When you start off drinkin' canned.
Waitin' for a tin-opener
In a queue and gettin' cursed
The bloke before you drops it
An' 'e's gotta find it first...
By the time 'e gets 'is top off
Why... I might have died of thirst!
Besides, those tins'll cut yer mouth...
Don't 'old with it.

And look at this 'ere make-up
The girls put on their dials
Mucky, dirty stuff...
Don't 'old with it.
Pluckin' all their eyebrows out
And squealin' with the pain
Then draws 'em with a pencil
Just to shove 'em back again.
Puffs an' paints an' powder
Littered all around the place.
Smearin' lip-stick on their lips 
I calls it a disgrace.
A bloke gets 'ome an' 'is missus says
"Oy! what's that on yer face?"
Blinkin' stuff comes orf...
Don't 'old with it.

And there's another barney
I don't 'old with anyhow
These are 'easy payments'
What they tempts a chap with now.
All they ask for is your signature
Upon the dotted line
And a bob or two deposit
And you sings, "The World is Mine..."
'Ouses on the easy,
Put 'arf a guinea down
At three and six a week...
Don't 'old with it.

The cat 'ops on the window-sill
It's feedin' like a game
Swishes of it's rudder
Knocks out the blinkin' pane.
A pal of mine, 'e took one
And one day 'e pays a call
'E was fixin' up a picture
With a 'ammer on the wall,
'E fetches it a clout
Down comes the picture, 'ouse 'n' all.
Now there's a way to live...
Don't 'old with it.

An' I don't 'old with neighbours
Never did and never shall
One side of me, I've got a bloke
Who rows with 'is ol' gal.
And opposite there's 'ens and dorgs
It's like a ruddy zoo.
An' it only wants the road up
For a proper 'how d'y do'
Now a neighbour's moved in next door
What's musically inclined
Talk about a din!...
Don't 'old with it.

Now a fiddle or a whistle-pipe
Now that'd be alright
But 'im... 'e blows a saxaphone
Till twelve o' clock at night.
Now what I says is this,
And I was never one to moan...
'It's an ill wind what blows
No'one any good, when sat alone.'
But if there's any good in 'im
What blows a saxaphone
Well, I'll eat my blinkin' bowler...
Don't 'old with it.
The end