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…