Pip's sad and slightly sickening song

I’m sorry said Pip
And it’s all my fault
And not the fault of the ‘rents:
They only bought the exmpoxed stock
But I didn’t mend the fence.

Thy’ve lied and lied
And tried to hide
My gross incompetence
So to make it right I’ll blab far and wide
That I didn’t mend the fence.

And it’s not the fault of the ‘rents, (oh no)
Not ever a bit of their fault at all
That they cast ne’er an eye over barn and stall
Or pasture or wire or crumbling wall
Or even a bit of a stick of a fence.

Self-flagellation without approbation
Is a lonely sort of a sport
So in search of the usual adulation
This poor girl had to resort
To Tom, her cousin, to bare her soul
But cousin Tom is a right [pigman]:
And in place of longed-for consolation
She had but a dusty retort.

And, etc…

I’m sorry, said Pip
And it’s not my fault
And only partly the ‘rents’,
Since once my moral fibre was taut
And deep down inside, I know that I ought
To have gone to mend the fence.

Gran was right and I was wrong -
Wrong to listen to Toby at least
But he showed me his way with a goose and
My moral fibre was loosened
Along, I confess, with my thong…
And the fence went unmended while I was upended –
Now he can’t get it up I can see he’s a beast.

I’m sorry, said Pip
But it’s not my fault
I’m a maiden led astray
So to Rickyard revels I’ve called a halt
And I’ve come back home to stay

with the ‘rents

And, etc…




Brava indeed. It has a slight feel of ‘The Fair Flower of Northumberland’ about it but I can’t quite make it fit. This is Ruth, though, isn’t it?

“For ye winnae want bread and ye winnae want wine
Oh but her love was easy won
And ye winnae want silver to buy a man
And you’re still the fair flower of Northumberland”


Not more peth please, Rutarsdottír!

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