Mother met a man named Harris;
Once he was the Sausage King.
We ate his sausages for months;
They were the real old thing.
They went and made us all so bloomin' fat
All day we had to lean
Till mother took it in her head
That she'd be Sausage Queen.
She bought some things and lumps of scrag
And other things as well,
But what she shoved inside those things
I ain't-a going to tell.

Chorus: 'Ome-made sausages,
Mother's are the best.
Fat and fine, all the time.
Don't lay on yer chest.
Crikey! they do blow out our little family
Mother, Mother, good old Mother
Bags o' mystery.

Little Tommy Bowles is off with one
One that's nice and thick
The one we poke the fire with
Makes a lovely walking stick.
A burglar broke into our shop
'E got a dreadful shock
Ma 'it 'im with a sausage
And it broke 'is bloomin' clock.
And when we let them out
They often croak just like a frog;
We've got one chained up in the yard;
It barks just like a dog.


Performed by Harry Champion (1865-1942)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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