Tony Rose - The Jug Band Made the Charts lyrics

I always planned to make this band The very finest in the land, So I got to hold auditions For the fine, the best musicians. Some what played, they made the grade; Some they played like hell, I picked the best in all the West, And here's the personnel: There was Bernard Mace on the old string ba**, Made from a girt big packing case. Next to he comes Amos Draper, Wizard on the comb and the paper. Arnold Slugg, what blows the jug, He's barred from all the locals; And I'm the star with my guitar, Harmonica and vocals. Now what were worse and made I curse Were finding somewhere to rehearse. Neither of the pubs would wear us, For it seemed they couldn't bear us. Folks all laughed, they called I daft. I took it on the chin. I were always fond of the old duck pond, Till they jugged I in. Then Bernard Mace, he sailed through space, Followed by his own-made case. Amos Draper, he did try To keep his roll of paper dry. Arnold Slugg went "glug, glug, glug" And very quickly sank, And my gumboots was full of newts When I reached the other bank. Now we'd not been barred from the old churchyard And there one night we practised hard. Every man were full of cider, Doing his best with the C.C. Ryder, When a figure in white then come in sight; We thought we'd waked the dead, But Parson Stirt in his nightshirt Said we waked he instead. So Bernard Mace took his old string ba**, And he said we'd better had leave this place. Off he flew with Amos Draper, Trailing yards of Bronco Paper. Arnold Slugg with his two-gallon jug For speed were not designed, And I ran like a fox with the parson's box He were following close behind. But then one day old Farmer Grey Come up to me and this did say: All his beasts like music played 'em. Would we kindly serenade 'em? So off we sped to the old cowshed, Them cows they did adore us. They wagged their tails and they banged their pails And joined in every chorus. Then Bernard Mace with his old string ba**, And a girt big Guernsey licked his face. Another got attached to Amos Draper, Chewed up all his pale pink paper, Filled the jug of Arnold Slugg, His kindness to acknowledge; And I got a kiss of a perty little miss From the Agricultural College. So in one week we quite uniquely Made the chart in The Farmer's Weekly. Play your cows our Rhythm'n'Blues, you'll Get three times more milk than usual. We've got plans, a lots of barns, No rivals do we fear, 'Cause every cow loves Mama Don't Allow, No Jug Band music in here. Now Bernard Mace has a shirt of lace And his hair completely hides his face. Likewise that of Amos Draper, Getting in between his comb and paper. Arnold Slugg's got a Pop Art jug What broke his mother's heart. We look so queer in all this gear, Since we made the charts.