by Scott Dobson and Dick Irwin There's a bow-legged, knock-kneed bus stop to the north of Jarrow Slacks There's a social club that nestles in the town There's a broken hearted barmaid shedding salt tears in her beer As the one-arm bandit sadly gazes down. She was known as Crafty Lil, cos she fiddled with the till She was faster than the Steward dared to tell From South Shields to Derwent Haugh she was worshipped by the staff And the Concert Chairman fancied her as well. His name was Jacky Graham and one night he set her home As hand in hand they wandered through the fog He said "What can I give you, to prove my love is true?" She says "A green tie for me little yellow dog." From Red Row to Percy Main, Jacky Graham searched in vain But a green tie he couldn't find in Geordieland He was even known to ramble through the Co-op Stores in Amble And he searched in every pawn shop in the land. One night, out on the beer, he has this bright idea "I'll take an air flight to Belfast, They'll have green ties over there and there's maybe one to spare, And me problem will be sorted out at last." So he takes this plane to Belfast and goes straight into a shop He says "I want a green tie and I don't care how dear" But the feller serving on, handed him a petrol bomb Saying "Get out! There's only orange ones in here!" So, on the return flight with his trousers well alight He was thinking on exactly what to do It looked grim for poor old Jack, his future it looked black And his backside was badly blistered too. So he got back home to Jarrow, his last hope was his old marro' "Have you got a green tie in the house?" he says to Dan "Well, green's unlucky, you silly bugger" Jack says "You're telling me!, And I've got the scars to prove it, Canny man." It comes the Sunday night, no Concert Chairman was in sight The entertainment at the club was just a flop The Secretary, Mr Lauder had to call out "Best of order" When the bingo-caller suddenly shouts out "Stop!" "I've just been round the back and there was poor old Jack, He was lying in the netty like a log, His pint was on the ground and round his neck was wound, A green tie for the little yellow dog." There's a bow-legged, knock-kneed bus stop to the north of Jarrow Slacks There's a broken-hearted barmaid sippin' Brown There's a poor old yellow dog still waiting for his tie As the one-arm bandit sadly gazes down.
The end