Barrack Street

There's a wind that blows down Barrack Street
A wind to make you fearful
There's a spicy gale on Barrack Street
If you go there please be careful


There's a pieman lives on Barrack Street
His shop's next the urinal
There's a pieman lives on Barrack Street
With a problem intestinal

He can't take beans nor beer nor prunes
Nor apples pears nor whisky
Not cabbages nor cauliflowers
And even bread is risky


There's a wind that blows down Barrack Street
A wind to make you fearful
There's a spicy gale on Barrack Street
If you go there please be careful


On market day he bakes away
The pie shop it is jumping
You can smell his wares as far Cowlairs
His windward passage pumping

When for a wake he has to bake
For friends of the departed
Then all that goes must hold their nose
In case the pieman farted


There's a wind that blows down Barrack Street
A wind to make you fearful
There's a spicy gale on Barrack Street
If you go there please be careful


At a party matrimonial
The bride and groom retired
The pieman parted both his cheeks
And fifty guests expired

But our pieman met a sorry end
By naughty boys was goaded
Into a cupboard where, at dawn
He lit a match and thus exploded


There's a wind that blows down Barrack Street
A wind to make you fearful
There's a spicy gale on Barrack Street
If you go there please be careful

 

Ailsa Craig

 

Copyright 2017 © Jane Harris