Poems and Songs


By a club in Great King Street, a learned judge stood,

Singing wallop, codswallop, codswallop

And I said to him, “Sir, are you not feeling good?” 

Oh, wallop, codswallop, codswallop.

“It’s some awful affliction come o’er you?”,  I cried.

“Has a cockroach crawled into your Canon and died?”

With a shake of his fat little head he replied,

“Oh, wallop, codswallop, codswallop.” 

He sobbed and he sighed and he clutched at his brow.

Oh, wallop, codswallop, codswallop.

And continued to make the most terrible row,

With his “Wallop, codswallop, codswallop”

“Come, sir,”  I said sternly,  “Pray do not act thus.”

But he moaned and he groaned and redoubled the fuss,

Then he threw himself under a number nine bus,

Which went  “Wallop, codswallop, codswallop”

So remember when next to a club night you go

With your wallop, codswallop, codswallop,

Judges want to be loved, they are human you know

Oh, wallop, codswallop, codswallop.

They do not sleep all week with worry and strain.

Each half-mark that you lose causes heart-ache and pain,

(And I bet you the blighters come next year again.)

Oh, wallop, codswallop, codswallop.



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