“I can look down and after song number three without saying anything I can see them; and they're going: 'Say, can't the bugger talk?'”
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Words & Music: Jake Thackray Your Worship… I want to kiss a vicar’s missus, Your worship, I appeal to you. I want to kiss a vicar’s missus - Any old vicar’s missus will do. I’ve kissed the wives of tax inspectors Bank managers’ madames galore The better halves of rent collectors One little kiss but nothing more, Your Worship I really need a vicar’s missus I can’t get it from my mind It’s not because I am lubricious I am religiously inclined Holy Mother Church has felt my onslaught I’ve chased the wives of clergy all me life I once embraced a bishop’s consort That doesn’t count, she wasn’t his wife, Your Worship I’ve kissed the wives of many a copper Sergeants, inspectors, plain clothes men One little peck, nothing improper It’s not a thing I’d do again I’ve kissed my way through most professions Grocers, landlords, aristocracy I kissed your wife at the petty sessions Milord you have my sympathy, Your Worship I really need a vicar’s missus I shall be rapid and discreet Without a vicar’s missus’s kisses My collection is incomplete It’s not as if I’d loot or ransack His property, his premises I’d never knock a vicar’s knick knacks Just give his wife a little kiss, Your Worship I once had one within my clutches At Evensong she puckered me up her lips I left the vicarage on crutches Converted by the curate’s crucifix But when I go to Hell or Hades I’ll get the answer to my prayer ’Cos all such vicars and their ladies They’ll all be there, they’ll all be there. No tab available |