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“RAGBONE!! RAGBONE!!”, he woz making his way round Bozer,
And, if tha gennim’ owt, he’d gi thi a balloon on a stick.
Till he got to our house, - mi mam’d be out like a shot,
Rummagin’ in his cart, to see if there were owt made outta wool as she could unpick.
Then, she’d have me sat theer for what seamt like hours,
On an owd stool wi me back aggenst wall,
As she wound miles o’ wool round me outstretched arms, to get crinkles out,
And then rolled it up into a big ball.
She’d only got one pattern, and there was a page missing.
Apparently, it was supposed to be a tea cozee,
So, if it went wrong, it could allus be altered,
Into a balaclava, unfortunately -- for me!
I’d got no option, I had to wear the thing,
Otherwise if it were cold, she wouldn’t let me go out.
But werst thing about it were that extra hole in the back,
Originally intended to accommodate the tea pot spout!
All the kids at school went mental and pulled mi leg,
Even some of the teachers laughed.
I might have been at a young, tender age,
Burra knew worrit felt like to feel daft!
“Tha’ll ‘ave to gerrit off, mam”, I said when I got ‘om,
She could see as I woz nearly in tears.
So she quickly got a soup-spoon to act like a crowbar,
To lever the bloody thing ovver me ears!
Now, me mam had obviously ennit some thought,
If she stitched it up, it wunt go ovver me head, it’d be too tight.
So, to cover up the offending hole in the back,
She sewed on a pom-pom, annit were white!!
Roaring me eyes out, I set off for school,
But I knew I couldn’t stand mickey-tekkin any more,
Although I’d be late, I was past caring,
And I decided to make a slight detour.
By Heck! It was great to have the wind in me hair,
And to feel me tabs wobbling about,
I’d tell me mam as some big lads had pinched it,
Knowing she wunt believe me, and that I’d get a clout.
So, if thar ever in Keep at Bozer Castle,
You’ll see a beautiful, big Acacia tree,
Impaled at the top is a green balaclava, wi’ a white pom-pom,
It’s been there for fifty years, don’t tell anyone as it were me!
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