Sing-Along-a-Wigan-Pier!
Feel like you’ve heard this lot a million times already? Then why not give your warbling muscles a stretch and sing along with the Late Joys!
Click the title of your favorite little number, or just scroll along as the band wends its way throught the “hits” of ol’ Wigan town.
All words and music © 2003 Robi Polgar
|
Once Upon A Times
In the olden days
In the northern towns
We were unemployed
Or we worked underground
Then along came a man
With a pen in his hand
To write it all down
For posterity
From his “Burmese Days”
To “1984”
Called himself Orwell
Eric Blair the man was born
He came to observe
Our lives and preserve
The whole wretched score
In his diary
Oh, those were once upon a times
When we slaved in the mills
Or we slogged through the mines
When we carried our country upon our backs
Kept the car on the road and the train on the tracks
And fueled the fires of industry
With arms of iron and bellies of steel
Every day on Earth
Might be our last
From the threat of explosion
Or a dreaded roof collapse
And on the surface you’ll see
Life was no cuppa tea
We live as best we can
In our community
Oh, those were once upon a times
When we slaved in the mill
Or we slogged through the mines
When our day started out in the pre-dawn fog
To the smell of sulphur and the sound of clogs
After our shift we were blacker than night
And squinted in the glare of the harsh daylight
It’s been our way of life
For a thousand years
From Scotland’s County Fife
To County Lancashire
Come along and you’ll find
In the towns and the mines
A rare old history
Come along and you’ll find
In the towns and the mines
A rare old history
Come along and you’ll find
In the towns and the mines
A rare old history
Back to the top
|
A Quick One (A Row-House Made of Brick) Oh, I live on a lovely street
In a row-house made of brick
But getting to the lavatory
Is something of a trick
I live in front but the W.C.
Was built around the back
And when I need my privacy
I make this long and lonely trek
I step out for a quick one
But it ain’t so quick
I tried a bite of mother’s pie
Now I’m feeling none too spry
Outside it’s cold and bitter
The snow is three feet thick
It’s the W.C. for poor old me
Behind a row-house made of brick
Oh, I live on the backside
Of a row-house made of brick
And all I smell from side to side
Is an alley full of sh…acks
At least it’s in my front yard
That’s the back yard to my mate
He runs around the house all hours
And in through the back gate
He steps out for a quick one
But it ain’t so quick
You can’t believe the sighs he heaves
As he races ’round back for a little relief
I’ve thought of moving front-side
But I’d hate to make that trip
I’ve got a loverly view of a row of loos
Behind a row-house made of brick
I step out for a quick one
But it ain’t so quick
I need relief from mother’s beef
So I steal ’round back like a right old thief
I run ’round to the alley
’ow it gives me leg a crick
It’s a slushy slog to the backyard bog
Behind a row-house made of brick
Throughout the north of England
Are row-houses made of brick
Where outdoor privies dot the land
From Liverpool to Giggleswick
A spoonful of black puddin’
And you haven’t got a prayer
The world is a no good ’un
When you’re caught short by English fare
You’ll step out for a quick one
But it ain’t so quick
The fog’s as thick as pea-green soup
When you run ’round back for your private moment
Outside it’s cold and bitter
The snow is three feet thick
It’s the W.C. for poor old me
Behind a row-house made of brick
It’s the W.C. for poor old me
Behind a row-house made of brick
It’s the W.C. for you and me...
Behind a row-house made of brick
Back to the top
|
Cheap Luxuries
For my new shoes what would you give
Yeah, they look good but they leak like a sieve
In your new dress you look like the bee’s knees
Although it’s useless when the weather freezes
I don’t care I just pretend
That looking good is the same as being content
One day I’ll win the lottery
’Til that day I’ve got cheap luxuries
What’s for supper look at that spread
A mountain of margarine and white bread
Fish and chips makes for a special dinner
And meat is magic when it comes out of a tin
I don’t complain I fill myself
With sweets, they’re better than vegetables
And everyone loves his cuppa tea
I’ll keep buying my cheap luxuries
Why buy healthy food or clothes that last
When life looks rosy through the bottom of your glass?
Who would skimp on shreds of happiness
When every day we’ve got to live like this?
I pretend ’cos I don’t care
From a distance I look like a millionaire
One day I’ll win the lottery
Then I’ll buy expensive luxuries
Back to the top
|
Once Upon A Times (reprise)
Our lot was tough
But not as tough as us
And while we worked
The world passed by oblivious
After years of neglect
They took what was left
The last little crumbs
Of our dignity
Oh, those were once upon a times
When we slaved in the mills
Or we slogged through the mines
When we carried our country upon our backs
Kept the car on the road and the train on the tracks
And breathed the fires of the bowels of the earth
And we didn’t have much but we knew our worth
It’s been our way of life
For athousandyears
From Scotland’s County Fife
To County Lancashire
Now the best that you’ll find
Is the odd working mine
But nowhere ’round here
We’re just history
We’re just history
We’re just history
We’re just history
Back to the top
|
The Nation’s Shopkeeper
Iron Lady I’m your fossil fool
Down the shaft my hands are on my tool
I’m digging deeper for the nation’s shopkeeper
I’m just her commodity
And she does what she likes to me
Iron Lady you’re not what you seem
Down the darkest pit you haunt my dreams
I’m losing sleep for the nation’s shopkeeper
To her I’m an oddity
She’s planning to get quit of me
Love’s arrow’s sharp
Love’s fire burns
But love is just an endless series of u-turns
You turn my head
Then you turn me on
You turn me out
Then you turn your back
Maggie how long can this go on?
Love’s arrow’s sharp
Love’s fire burns
But love is just an endless series of u-turns
You turned our world inside out
You turned us out on our ears
I turned up for work
But there wasn’t any more
Maggie I’ve given you my best years
Iron Lady we’re your fossil fools
Up the shaft come dirty thoughts of you
We’ll strike to be free she’s the nation’s shopkeeper
To her this is comedy
And she gives the punch lines away
Back to the top
|
You Won’t Know Me
Ooh, you don’t know me
Ooh, you never will
I’m gone for good
Or gone for ill
Ooh, you won’t know me
Ooh, read what you like
Ooh, then look around
Our way of life
Is buried underground
Where it never can be found
This back was built for digging the black stuff
And if that’s not enough
See how this shovel fits this hand
But one-thousand years of a way of life
Is not enough when things start getting rough
Now we’ve been banished from under
England’s green and pleasant land
These legs weren’t meant for standing on dole queues
But that’s not really news
What’s a man on forced redundancy?
And like communities that have been abused
We’re smoke going up the flues
Now we’ll never again be under
England’s pleasant pastures seen
Ooh, the game’s at three
Ooh, the church bells ring
But the stands are empty now
And the choir don’t sing
Ooh, you don’t know me
Ooh, you won’t know me
Back to the top
|
(But There Isn’t Any) Wigan Pier
“How ’bout a kiss or a cuppa tea?”
That’s what that Wigan lassie offered me
And if I had an ounce of northern pride
I’d take that beauty by my side
And live a Lancashire fantasy
(I’d tell her)
You look too good to be true
By the light of the sulphur burning blue
On magnificent slag-heap lunar scapes
Looming over lives we can’t escape
So take my hand we’ll scrape the shale
With fingers black and faces pale
Then stroll the Leeds & Liverpool
Just you and me, my dear
Ta for that nice warm cuppa tea
But in the comfort of the foggy south
Is where you will find me
I’ll pop another coal in the fireplace
Listen to the idle chatter on my wireless
And try to preserve your memory
(but right now)
It’s time to bid adieu
To the sulphur fires burning blue
On the beautiful slag-heap silhouettes
Looming over towns we’d just as soon forget
Let’s bid a fond farewell
To the yellowy Leeds & Liverpool
That chemical canal runs through
The heart of Lancashire
But there isn’t any Wigan Pier
(’cos right now)
It’s time to bid adieu
To the sulphur fires burning blue
On the beautiful slag-heap silhouettes
Looming over towns we’d just as soon forget
Let’s bid a fond farewell
To the yellowy Leeds & Liverpool
That chemical canal runs through
The heart of Lancashire
But there isn’t any Wigan Pier
But there isn’t any Wigan Pier
But there isn’t any Wigan
But there isn’t any Wigan
But there isn’t any Wigan Pier
Back to the top
© Robi Polgar. All rights reserved.
|
|
|