I remember my Dad’s friends chanting that with wicked grins, then stopping. Apparently the rest of the verses would get far too dirty for children to hear. I liked my Dad’s friends. They were cheerful blokes, his work mates, his drinking mates, our neighbours. There was a culture of blokiness that seem to produce good cheer. Or maybe it was that it was a relatively affluent period, after the Great Depression and the Second World War. There was a feeling of security, comfort, warmth, optimism, all will be well. Those men seemed so certain about everything. I guess they weren’t really, but they gave that impression to us little kids. And they were good men really, kind and polite (except of course in their rude songs).
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