I've lost my pal, 'e's the best in all the tahn
But don't you fink 'im dead becos ‘e ain't
But since ‘es wed ‘e as ‘ad ter knuckle dahn
Its enufter vex the temper of a saint
‘E's a brewer's dray-man, wiva leg of mutton fist
‘An as strong as a bullick or an ‘orse
Yet in ‘er ‘ands e's like a little kid
Oh I wish as I could get ‘im a divorce.

Chorus: It's a great big shame
And if she belonged to me
I'd let her know who's who
Nagging at a fellow that is six foot three
And her not four feet two.
They hadn't been married for a month or more
When underneath her thumb goes Jim
Oh isn't it a pity that the likes of her
Should put upon the likes of him.

Now Jim was class-'e could sing a decent song
And at scrappin ‘e ‘ad won some great renown
It took two coppers for to make ‘im move along
And anovver six to ‘old the feller dahn
But today when I axes would he come an' ‘ave some beer
To the door-step on tiptoe ‘e arrives
“I dares't” says ‘e “Don't shout cos she'll ‘ear
I've got ter clean the windows an' the knives.


On a Sunday morn, wiv a dozen pals or more
‘E'd play at pitch and toss along the Lea
But now she bullies ‘im a scrubbin' ‘o the floor
Such a change, well I never did I see
Wiv an apron on ‘im I twigged ‘im on ‘is knees
A rubbin' up the old ‘arf stone
Wot wiv emptying the ashes and a shelling of the peas
I'm blowed if ‘e can call ‘is-self ‘is own.

Performed by Gus Elen
Words by Edgard Bateman - music by George Le Brunn
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