by Bernard Newman Today I was reading about a big ship Some pirates were there on the deck When all of a sudden my mother came in An’ started off washin’ my neck. Oh, I’m sure that my neck don’t want washin’ Why should mother always choose me? There’s my sister Mary, with hair down her back It hides her neck, so’s you can’t see My mother will look at the back of my ears And I’ll tell you a thing she will do She takes out a hanky, and licks it - like this An’ she - well, I don’t like it. Would you? Mother says I should look in the mirror each night To make sure that I’m clean before bed But I know I’m clean by a much better way I just look at the towel instead. Oh, I’m sure that my neck don’t need washin’ I’m sure that it ain’t safe at all I want to take warning from other’s mistakes And not in their footsteps to fall My dad’s got his hair off - he’s what they call ‘bald’ Its all rotted away, it appears So that now he’s all neck to the top of his head That’s through washin’ the back of his ears. I’m in for some trouble tomorrow Our vicar is coming to tea And Ma will look round, just to see things all right There’ll be one that’s found wantin’ - that’s me. Oh, I’m sure that my neck don’t need washin’ I’m sure that it’s perfectly clean I washed it last Saturday night in the bath To wash it again would be mean I don’t see why vicars should visit at all Then it wouldn’t be, “Come along, Tom.” Why should I be polished up, just to please him? Besides, s’pose the vicar don’t come!
The end