|THEY BUNGED HIM INTO MY GROWLER|
I drove my cab in the Strand, one night,
When a couple of toffs said 'Hi'
We want you to drive this drunken man to his villa near Peckham Rye
He ran away, years and years ago, but now he has made a pile
He's going back home to his dear mamma, to win her forgiving smile.'
'Here is his mother's address,' said one, who looked like a duke or lord
'He's a little bit tiddley, but still she's sure to give you a big reward.'
Chorus: They bunged him into my growler, and I made the gee-gee fly
Felt so gay, sang all the way, going to Pekham Rye
They picked me up in the Strand, and I drove him ever so far
The night I took the prodigal son home to his dear mamma.
I grinned to think of that big reward, for it made me feel oh, so gay
I'd had my cab out since early morn and I'd not had a fare all day
I thought how the mother would greet her son
Who'd come from across the foam
And how she would give me a double fare for bringing him safely home
I've got a tenderish heart, I have, as limp as a lump of tripe
We had scarcely reached Peckham before
A tear ran trickling down my pipe.
At last, before dear mother's door, I pulled up my cab in state
Rat-tat-ed and shouted, 'Here's your son'
In a style that was simply great
His mother she screamed, a crowd came round,
Then I on my fare did call
'Come on out sir, cuddle your long lost ma.'
But he never moved at all
I said, 'Come on.' and I pulled him out, and fell, with him on top
And the prodigal son was a dummy they'd pinched out of a tailor's shop.
|Performed by George Lashwood (1863-1942)|