As I wandered down by the Royal Oak, perchance,

I saw an old Morris Man trying to dance,

And I heard him say as he dropped both his sticks,

“Take me away, lads, I’m going to be sick”.

Chorus:    

Dress me up in me clogs and me sashes,

No more down the Oak will I dwell.

Tell Earlsdon I’m dying, and the beer I’ll be buying,

When I see them one day, in the old Clog and Bells.

Now the old Clog and Bells is a pub, I’ve heard tell,

Where Morris Men go if they don’t go to Hell.

There’s plenty of dancing and singing, you see,

The landlord is smiling, and the beer’s always free.

Repeat Chorus.

There’s darts and there’s dommies, and the barmaid wears clogs.

There’s a forecourt for dancing, good beer and good bogs.

The landlady’s gorgeous, and she is well stacked,

And the landlord keeps serving till you’re flat on your backs.

Repeat Chorus.

Now I don’t need a harp nor a halo, not me,

Just give me a pub with beer on gravity.

I’ll sit myself down, and I’ll not wander far,

‘Cos tripe and black puddings are served at the bar.

Repeat Chorus.

When I knock the door of the old Clog and Bells,

St. Julian will ask me if I have danced well.

I’ll say, “I’m from Earlsdon”, and he’ll raise a cheer,

And say, “Come on in, lad, th’art first bugger from there”.

Repeat Chorus.         

So come Earlsdon Morris, dance well ‘till you die,

And you’ll all go to that great pub in the sky.

But if you dance badly, you’ll go down to Hell,

Which we all know is a Greenall’s Hotel.

Final Chorus.

                                                                                   

Terry Fairless