Transcription
THE DOOLEY FITBA' CLUB. Written by JAMES CURRIN. Sung by J. C. McDONALD. This Popular Ssng can be had at the POET'S BOX, OVERGAE DUDEE. Noo ye a' ken my big brither Jock, His richt name is Johnny Shaw, We'll he's lately jined a fitba' club, For he's daft aboot fitba'; He's twa black een already an Three teeth oot by the root, Whaur his face did come in contact wi' Some ither fellow's boot, PATTER,-His fair daft a boot fitba'; if he wis jist as daft aboot wark, it wid be tae his credit, He raves aboot a ''throw in."-ma sang-I could sometimes gi'e him a "throw oot." He sweers that their club has got yin o' the best "passers"; in the country ; the indivdual referred to got three months lately, for passin' a bad shillin'. Ma fellow ye ken plays centre forword-half-back on the left wing, an flees up an doon the field they tell me like a hat on a winny day. Their club is a gran' yin; they lately played the Blin' Asylum, an' scored a big victory, but for a, I maun inform ye that- CHORUS. He's fitba' crazy fegs, He's clean stane mad, His fitba' capers robbed him o' Whit we bit sense he had; It wid tak a dizen servents His clase tae patch and scrub, Since Jock's become a member o' the Dooly fitba' club. Noo the first match they ever played, I went mysel' and saw, they'd twa half bricks for goal posts an' A tin can for a ba'; The Prince o' Wales was present an' Some lords and ladies grand, So our Jock he got an egg box an Erected a grand stand. PATTER.-'Magine the Prince o' Wales comin' tae Hampden Park tae see he's club play fitba'- so he says-an' he speaks the truth unless whin he tells lees, an' he niver tells ony mair than one lee at a time", It's a polisman keeps goal for them-his feet are nice an' big-they jist full the goal posts, an' naethin' kin get passin' him. They are tae play a big match on Saturday first; they're matched tae play the Barrowfield Ironclads-a club that defeated the Brigton Banebrakers by 1 goal to 0, In fac', a' his crack is aboot fitba, an' me winner I'm compard tae say- Of a' the fitba' clubs afloat Jock sweers they are the primer, An' ye oucht tae hear him bounce aboot Their beatin' record time ; They've challanged a' the ither elubs But nane 'ill tak' them up, Since they played the Blin' Asylum team For a Leather-Pated Cup. PATTER. -Ye'd lauch tae see them playin' wi a corn-beef can instead o' a ba'-mun they rattle aboot like mad. They had a match on wi' the Rangers, it wis for a "Charity," an' they real- ized the handsome amount o' 1s, & 9d. It was sent tae the Westren Infirmary in hap'ny stam- ps, but if he disna' mend his ways I'll leeve him the fac' is- The auld wife sweers she'll put him oot That's if he disna' keep Frae kickin' up a rampus Playin' fitba' through his sleep; He'll cry oot it's a corner kick, Or something else sae droll, 'Thither nicht he kicked me oot o bed And he swore it was a goal.
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Probable period of publication:
1880-1900 shelfmark: RB.m.143(050)
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