by The Crooked Man (For all Terry Wogan fans) There's a famous Irish city called Dublin That's noted for porter and stout Where Mr. and Mrs. Togmeister Took Terry for a jolly day out. A well trousered lad were young Terrance, All dressed in his best, quite a swell. He'd a shillelagh with donkey’s tail handle; The finest that Ben Dunn's could sell. They didn't think much to the Liffey, Or even the tart in the cart. The floosie sat in the jacuzzi, Did little to stir the lad’s heart. So, seeking for crack and refreshment, They upped, and went into a bar, Where they had whiskey and Guinness and Vimto And pickled eggs stuffed in a jar. There were one great big lummock called Jim Joyce Whose beard was all covered with dribbles; He lay in a som-no-lent posture With the side of his face in the nibbles. Now Terry had heard about playwrights- How they was outrageous and mad; To see Jimmy snoring so peaceful Just didn't seem right to the lad. So straightway the brave little fellow, Not showing a morsel of fear, Took his shillelagh with donkey’s tail handle And stuck it up Ol’ Joyce’s rear. You could see that Jimmy didn't like it, For giving a kind of a roar, He grabbed Tel by his brand new red braces And hung him on a hook by the door. Now Mother had seen this occurrence, Though feeling a tiny bit squiffed, She hollered 'Yon drunk’s hung our Terry!' And Father said 'Gosh, I am miffed.' They complained to Assumpta the barmaid Who said 'My, what a nasty to-do; Are you sure it's your boy that’s been strung up?' Pa said, 'Am I sure? That there's his shoe!' Now the bar was in a kerfuffle When out of the smoke-misted depths Miss Molly Bloom crossed over the room And lifted him down without using steps Then she sat the lad on the counter top And gave his ears a square bashing With tales of things unknown to young Tel For three hours, or more, without hushing. But by now little Tel had had quite enough And rushed straight off to Dunlaoghaire To spend a long life at the BBC Making we TOGs’ mornings so cheery. Ma and Pa, back in the bar Were having a case of head staggers And to Molly Bloom at the end of the room Were giving a look of pure daggers. The Peelers had to be sent for; A guard came resplendent and tall Ma said 'Yon woman’s banished Terry, And him with no clean pants at all!' Father said 'Right's right, young feller- I think it's a shame and a sin To have our son sent off to England And after we paid for our gin.' But Assumpta wanted no trouble; She opened the till right away, Saying 'How much will settle the matter?' Pa said 'What do you usually pay?' But Mrs Togmeister turned awkward When she saw where her Tel-boy had gone. She said, 'No, someone's got to be summonsed!' So that was decided upon. And off they all went to police barracks In front of a Magistrate chap; They told what had happened to Terry And proved it by showing his cap. The Magistrate gave his opinion That no one was really to blame, And said that he hoped the Togmeisters Would have further sons to their name. At that Mother got proper shirty: 'And thank you, sir, kindly,' said she- 'Wot, spend all our lives raising children To be snaffled, by Auntie? Not me!'
The end