Jack Ashton

Oh, The times were hard and mean and our youthful days were lean

In the land they said was fit for Flanders heroes

It was all a seaside show where the poor folk couldn't go

We just stood outside while others watched the Pierots

And we only had to spend what our friends' aunt Clegg would lend

There was little of Lloyd Georges promised glory

But each evening down the street by the gas lamp we would meet

And we'd listen while Jack Ashton told his stories

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Aye, we sat there and listened with our mouths open wide

Though we knew in our hearts that the old devil lied

But we needed to believe in the magic he would weave

So we took a glass for old time's sake the day Jack died

Now our all-wise parents said he'd a screw loose in the head

And we were daft to listen to his lies

But we saw their daily grind and heard the magic in his mind

And we knew who was daft and who was wise

Though we nearly broke our neck playing soccer on the rec

And his bowling with a corky could be gory

As the evening sun went down by the lamp we'd gather round

And we'd listen while Jack Ashton told his stories

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Now that Jack's been laid to rest, if there's any justice left

He'll be telling yarns now to the holy ghost

Aye, and gathered round his knee open mouthed as we might be

Sit saints and angels, all the heavenly host

And he'd tell them how he'd saved old moses from the wave

And he slew Goliath with one mighty blow

As an all forgiving Lord listens smiling at his words

As we did by the gas lamp long ago

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