TOW THE ROW ROW
 
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Here is a song that is older than most
It came from Sir Roger de Coverley's ghost
He would give every verse of the song as a toast
And the company joined in the Chorus:

Chorus: Tow the row, row; tow the row row. Tow the row tow the row row
Sing it anyhow, kick up a row. Let it go now young fella me lad
Sing tow the row row.


Here's to the Suffragette pretty young Rose
She went to a ball with bare legs and bare toes
Saying, 'I can't wear pumps and I can't bear hose
They remind me of forcible feeding.'

Chorus:

Here's to the drummer our jolly old chum
He painted his mother-in-law on his drum
So that every time he went rum-ti-tum-tum
He gave her a jolly good hiding.

Chorus:

Here's to the painter who shouted, 'Look here
You've gone and you've painted that door with my beer'
And here's to his mate who said trembling with fear,
'Lor lummy, I've swallowed your paint then.'

Chorus:

Here's to Dick Turpin the robber of old
He'd hold up a pistol demanding your gold
May he rest in his grave now we've got one as bold
Though he calls it ninepence for four pence.

Chorus:

Here's to the soldier who's ready to fight
And here's to his spurs that a jingling and bright
May his darling wife never feel cut up at night
When he gets into bed with his spurs on.

Chorus:

Here's to the doctor who often gets tight
His friends bring him home on the door every night
May he fall off the door and yell out with delight
'Thank goodness I'm not on the panel.'
 
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Performed by Whit Cunliffe (1876-1966)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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