MY GRANDFATHER'S MOKE
(parody of Henry Clay Work's 'Grandfather's Clock')
 
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My grandfather's moke was a queer sort of bloke
And he worked twenty years in the cart
But the rinderpest he'd got so we had to have him shot
And the bullet went right through his heart
We got drunk on the morn of the day that he was born
He was always our treasure and our pride
But he's stopped short, never to kick again
And the old moke's died.

Chorus: Twenty years without stumbling kick, kick, kick
He went without grumbling kick, kick,kick
But he's stopped short, never to kick again
And the old moke's died.

My grandfather's moke tho' his forelegs were broke
At the last donkey show took a prize
And to look at him tug with both feet down a plug
Would have brought the salt tears to your eyes
But he's gone to the bourne from which no onene can return
And no more on his back shall I ride
But he's stopped short, never to kick again and the old moke's died.

Chorus:

My grandfather's moke when he heard a good joke
Both his ears and his tail he would cock
And when roadways were narrow he'd dance in the barrow
To the tune of, 'My Granbdfather's Clock'
Now his flesh we'll diguise in the form of pork pies
And some breeches we'll make of his hide
But he's stopped short, never to go again and the old moke's died.

Chorus:

My grandfather's moke when his time came to croak
On his bended knees set up a bray
Turned the whites of his eyes and looked up to the skies
Wagged his tail, with a smile passed away
Oh, his skeleton I stuffed, and I wear just a tuft
Of his tail next my heart, and I cried
When he stopped short, never to bray again
And the old moke's died.

Chorus:

 
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Written by F. W. Green & J. F. AcArdle - 1879
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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