Hand on the Ear Folk Song - The Baron Knights
A folk singer of ethnic origin, leaned upon the bar,
He’d tried to roll himself a fag, but he’d had no luck so far,
He had with him a lurcher, a ragged animal called Shep,
Who didn’t like the place and did a whopsie on the step.
Jed Burrows was his name my friends, he was a local bloke
Or so he said, but we all knew, he’d caught the bus from Stoke,
He placed upon a vacant chair a leather booted foot,
His elbow to his knee and hand to his right ear he put.
He sang in clear and ringing tones though nasal I suppose,
Due to the fact that he had got his thumb stuck up his nose,
His accent sounded like a Geordie Cornishman from Brum,
And he sang so flat his lurcher jumped right up and bit his bum.
The evening dragged a little as we all got slowly drunk,
Including Jed’s old lurched who smelt like a rotten skunk,
Jed never fed him so he poked in dustbins quite a lot,
And he’d come across the meadow, where he’d rolled in god know what.
The singing it got worse and worse, the pub ran out of beer,
But still Jed battled bravely on, his hand clamped to his ear,
You’ll never see a bloke drink more wherever you may roam,
He closed his eyes, fell off his chair,
And then we all went home.