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THE TWENTY-FIRST OF LIVERPOOL It's the twenty-first of Liverpool, the city of July, The snow was cover'd wi' the ground as sure as any lie; I stepped aboard of a tramway car for to blow the raging sea, I asked the governor punch my ticket, he said he would punch my e'e. I fell in love wi' an English girl who could sing a Gaelic dance, She was born i Tipperary, a few miles out o' france She's a weaver in the gasworks, a stone-breaker to her trade But now she's got a constant job, got a-cooking of Eastern shed. My father was a dairy maid up on a Sunday's boat, He split his fingers breaking sticks for Barney Hooligan's goat; The goat took sick that very night and died three weeks before, But that's all my friends, I'll have to go, for I don't know anymore. note: A traditional playground song from Stirling, collected from James Thompson 1961. From SOunds Like Folk, EFDS Publications Ltd. @kids @nonsense filename[ LVPL21 TUNE FILE: LVPL21 CLICK TO PLAY RG apr97  8note Sheet |
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