"It's A Great Big Shame"


A Music Hall Song


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 'e's wed 'e's 'as 'ad ter 'nuckle dahn,
It's enufter wex the temper of a saint!
'E's a brewer's drayman, wiv a leg o' 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, an' if she belong'd ter me
I'd let'er know who's who -
Naggin' at a feller wot is six foot free,
And 'er not four foot two!

Oh! They 'adn't been married not a month nor more,
When underneaf'er fumb goes Jim
Isn't it a pity as the likes ov'er
Should put upon the likes of 'im?
Now Jim was class, 'e could sing a decent song,
And at scrappin' 'e won some great renown;
It took two coppers for ter make 'im move along,
And anuvver six to 'old the feller dahn.
But today when I axes would e' come over an'ave some beer.
To the doorstep on tiptoe'e arrives;
"I daren't," says'e "Don't shout, cos she'll 'ear
I've got to clean the winders an' the knives."

Chorus:
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 see.
Wiv a apron on 'im, I twigged 'im on 'is knees
A-rubbin' up the old 'arf stone;
Wot wiv emptyin' the ashes and a-shellin o' the peas
I'm blowed if e' can call 'isself'is own!

Return to Gaudy Night