THE BARKING CREEK BELL-RINGER'S DAUGHTER
by Anonymous The Barking Creek bell-ringer's bell it gets rung When the fog lies thick on the water, Though it's not of the Barking Creek bell my song's sung But of the Barking Creek bell-ringer's daughter. Now she was so lovely, so fair and so squat That conductors fell off of their buses As she walked down Cable Street bearing on top Her bath full of live octopuses. And all down her back from shoulder to thigh Their tentacles hung down in tresses, As sweetly she'd sing, "Won't you cough up and buy My octopus, live octopuses?" Now one day in August the sunshine was spread On her wares that she proudly was bearing, And the blowflies all glittered and buzzed round her head Like the halos that angels are wearing. As on the embankment her stock she laid out In that far from salubrious quarter, She aroused the wild passions of Algernon Stout An unemployed Billingsgate porter. Now Stout was a villain who wallowed in crime Who lived under some derelict barges And the day being hot, was laid out on the slime Where the Barking Creek sewer discharges. He crouched on the crust as the maiden drew nigh Her petticoats all of a-splatter. He licked his fat lips then, suddenly, like A wild rhino-sore-arse, flew at her. His head hit her first in a cloud of black dust And the bath took off like a rocket They crumpled and crashed til they broke through the crust To the mud underneath which was clotted. She pushed a large handful all slimy and green Down his gob like a mouthful of jelly, Then the bath full of octopus fell on the scene Upside down on top of the melee. Beneath it they struggled but Stout never knew The danger to which he was liable An octopus, slyly, did stealthily glue Its sucker upon his left eyeball. Now vainly Stout struggled to loosen its grip And attempted the monster to throttle When his eye came away with a pop and rip With the sound like a cork from a bottle. When Algernon spied he was only one-eyed He was filled with distraught irritation And grabbed the poor octopus by its inside As a weapon of flag-e-olation. The octopus turned inside out with a gulp As Stout's actions got even distraughter He sliced them all up and beat to a pulp The Barking Creek bell-ringer's daughter. Now there s some literati what's going to complain That a moral should here be appended Whilst others, as surely, will loudly maintain That it's high time the bloody thing ended. But all you bum critics take notice from me If you're of the feminine gender, That in Barking today, there's a vacancy For a lady-like octopus vendor.
The end