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Ah want tae be a punk rocker
Andy Cameron who had a big hit with this song in the late seventies came
from Rutherglen and once worked in the Welma Bakery in Barrowfield, he is
still a quoted entertainer.
The writer of the song was Peter Nardini, one of Glasgow's top
artists, his work being displayed throughout Europe, he attended the
Glasgow School of Art.
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Ah want tae be a Punk
Rocker
Chorus Ah
want tae be a punk rocker but ma mammy wullny let me
She says if ah'm a punk she'll throw me oot and hit me
A want tae be a punk rocker but ah'm feart tae be a punk
Cos ma mammy wullny let me be a punk
A want tae go intae a cafe an make them aw feel seeck
Wi' a great big rusty safety pin stickin through ma cheek
A want tae really be a scunner and dae things that are awfy
like pick ma nose and dip it in ma coffee
A want tae listen tae John Peel cos he plays aw thur hits
and thur full o' sex appeal like Fiona Richmonds 'lips'
A want tae be a punk when thur music is forgotten
I'll still be there tae strangle Johnny Rotten.
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THE WELLY
BOOT SONG (McEwen)
1. Wellies they are wonderful, oh
wellies they are swell,
Cause they keep oot the water, an' they keep in the
smell,
An' when yer sittin in
a room, you can always tell,
When some bugger takes off his wellies.
If
it wasna for your wellies where would you be?
You'd be in the hospital or infirmary,
Cause you would have a dose of the flu or even pleurisy,
if you didna have your feet in your wellies!
2. But when yer oot walking, in the country way
about
An yer strolling over fields just like a fairmer's herd.
And
somebody shouts "Keep aff the grass," and you think "How
absurd;"
And, squelch, you find why fairmers a' wear wellies.
Chorus
3.
There's
fishermen and firemen, there's farmers an a',
Men
oot digging ditches an' working in the snaw;
This
country it would grind tae a halt and no' a thing would graw
If
it wasna for the workers in their wellies.
Chorus
4.
Noo
Government and oor MPs, they havna made a hit,
They're
ruining this country, mair than just a bit,
If
they keep on the way they are goin', we'll all be in the sh..,
So
you'd better get your feet in your wellies.
Chorus
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The
Wee Cock Sparra
A wee cock sparra sat
on a tree,
A wee cock sparra sat on a tree,
A wee cock sparra sat on a tree,
Chirpin awa as blithe as could be.
Alang came a boy wi'a
bow and an arra,
Alang came a boy wi'a bow and an arra,
Alang came a boy wi'a bow and an arra,
And he said: 'I'll get ye, ye wee cock sparra.'
The boy wi' the arra
let fly at the sparra,
The boy wi' the arra let fly at the sparra,
The boy wi' the arra let fly at the sparra,
And he hit a man that was hurlin' a barra.
The man wi' the barra
cam owre wi' the arra,
The man wi' the barra cam owre wi' the arra
The man wi' the barra cam owre wi' the arra,
And said: 'Ye take me for a wee cock sparra?'
The man hit the boy,
tho he wasne his farra,
The man hit the boy, tho he wasne his farra,
The man hit the boy, tho he wasne his farra
And the boy stood and glowered; he was hurt tae the marra.
And a' this time the
wee cock sparra,
And a' this time the wee cock sparra,
And a' this time the wee cock sparra
Was chirpin awa on the shank o' the barra.
Duncan Macrae 1905-1967
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Sam the Skull
The song was written after witnessing the antics of the cat population in
the housing schemes in the east end of Glasgow, (this was during my time
as a painter and decorator with Glasgow district council ). It was first
recorded by the folk duo Gaberlunzie and then by Alistair McDonald. Reference
to the song can be found in "The Peoples Palace Book of Glasgow"
and the lyrics and music in the book "One Singer One Song"
published by Glasgow City Libraries. I was brought up in Craigpark in
Dennistoun (where the library is) then moved to Carntyne, went to school
in Shettleston and am now retired and living in Sandyhills (next to
St.Pauls Church) I am married to Frances and have two daughters Carol who
lives in East Kilbride and Julie who lives in Devon.........
Regards,
Harry Hagan Sept.2004
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Sam the Skull ( Glesca cat )
Harry Hagan
Chorus A'hm a cat, ah'm a cat, ah'm a
Glesca cat, ma name is Sam The Skull.
Ah've got claws on ma paws like crocodile's jaws and a heid like a
fermer's bull.
Ah'm not the kind of cat that sat on the mat Or the kind that ye gie a
hug,
Ah'm the kind of cat that strangles the rats and even the occasional
dug.
Noo ah roam aroon doon in Shettleston,
Where they aw no me by sight,
“Here’s the Skull! Here’s the Skull! Ye can here them yell,
As they aw run intae the night, The polis station doon our way,
has bars on the windae sill. Its not to keep the prisoners in,
its to keep oot Sam The Skull.
chorus
Noo there was
a time no sae long ago, When the folk aw had the’re fill,
An they sent for the RSPCA, Tae come an catch the Skull,
For naebody’d get oot while
ah’m roamin aboot, Chasin aw
the weans up the close,
Pee’in on the stairs, scratchin ma erse, An sittin there pickin ma nose.
chorus
Noo oot came the men aboot hauf past ten in a wee blue Escort van,
Wan had a sack and a rifle on his back, And another had a mallet in his
hand,
Ah watched them go up the side o the hoose, then ah casually strolled tae
the van,
In tae the front! I was off! Everythin had gone tae plan.
chorus
You can hear them say down Shettleston way, "What became of Sam the
Skull?"
He had claws on his paws like crocodile's jaws and a heid like a fermer's
bull.
Well you can tell them from me that ah'm still roamin' free and never a
day is dull.
Ah know it might sound absurd But ah'm living wi' a burd in a single end in
Maryhill!
chorus
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