The Ballad of Billy M'Caw

Oh, how well I remember the old Bull and Bush
Where we used to go down of a Sattaday night,
Where, when anything happened, it came with a rush,
For the boss, Mr. Clark, he was very polite

A very nice house, from basement to garret
A very nice house. Ah, but it was the parret,
The parret, the parret named Billy M'Caw,
Who brought all those folk to the bar.
Ah! He was the life of the bar.

Of a Sattaday night, we was all feeling bright,
And Lily LaRose, the barmaid that was,

She'd say 'Billy! Billy M'Caw! Come give us,
Come give us a dance on the bar.'
And Billy would dance on the bar,
And Billy would dance on the bar.
And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear,
And emotion would make us all order more beer.

Lily, she was a girl what had brains in her head;
She wouldn't have nothick, no not that much said.
If it came to an argument, or a dispute,
She would settle it offhand with the toe of her boot

Or as likely as not put her fist through your eye.
But when we was happy and just a bit dry,
Or when we was thirsty, and just a bit sad,
She would rap on the bar with that corkscrew she had

And say 'Billy! Billy M'Caw!
Come give us a tune on your pastoral flute!'
And Billy'd strike up on his pastoral flute,
And Billy'd strike up on his pastoral flute.
And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear,
And emotion would make us all order more beer.

'Billy! Billy M'Caw!
Come give us a tune on your moley guitar!'
And Billy'd strike up on his moley guitar,
And Billy'd strike up on his moley guitar.
And then we'd feel balmy, in each eye a tear,
And emotion would make us all order more beer.

'Billy! Billy M'Caw!
Come give us a tune on your moley guitar!'
Ah! He was the life of the bar.

-T. S. Eliot