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singer, songwriter, comedian, author, poet, broadcaster and multi-instrumentalist

The Ballad of Cowheel Lou

North Of Oldham South of Diggle there lies a town called Mumps 
Where the tripe mines stand just by the washhouse wall 
And in that deserted town where the shacks are tumbling down 
You can hear the scabby moggies lonesome call

Years ago this town was booming when the tripe rush days were on 
And the miners they rolled in from far and near 
In the ‘Sweaty Clog’ saloon they were supping night and noon 
Sarsaparilla, liquorice juice and privet beer.

Now she was a good time dancing gal, any tripe miners pal 
For a bottle of Brasso she’d love you all night through 
She was rough and she was tough, she wore no vest and took black snuff 
And was known to all the lads as Cowheel Lou.

Now Lou had one special man, his name was Dangerous Albert 
He sucked Fiery Jack and camphorated oil 
He wore barbed wire combinations and slept rough on Oldham station 
And Wimpy used his dandruff for hardcore.

Now one stormy night in Mumps when the rain came down in lumps 
And the wind blew empty tins off Saddleworth Moor 
In the ‘Sweaty Clog’ saloon the pianola played a tune 
And Lou was sewing mudflaps on her drawers.

While a gang of tripe prospectors and a couple of tram inspectors
Were gambling all their pay on snakes and ladders 
While a pair of Huddersfield tramps were supping the oil from the lamps
And Albert was trying to kickstart the pianola.

Well, the doors busted open wide and a stranger come inside 
It was Spotty Bum McGrew the lame evangelist 
He was an hop-along bible thumper, he kept a white rat up his jumper 
And in his hand he held a tambourine.

He said “I’m looking for a man as how they call him Dangerous Albert 
I’ve heard as how he’s known around this part.” 
Well the pianola stopped its tune and a hush came on the room 
So quiet you could hear a cockroach fart.

Said the stranger, “Me and Al, we were buddies he was my pal 
In the salvation army band we both did play
‘Til one night we went on booze, he ripped up me shirt and widdled in my shoes 
He blew his nose on me vest and smashed me tambourine!”

Then Albert caught his eye and the stranger gave a cry 
And leapt upon the bar with a scream of rage 
Then Albert gave a shout and whipped his weapon out 
And in his hand he held a tambourine

Now tales have been told of what took place that night 
The fiercest fight that Mumps has ever seen 
How Spotty Bum McGrew and the lover of Cowheel Lou 
Fought to the very death, each with their tambourine.

All night long they did do battle and their tambourines did rattle 
Spotty Bum’s teeth went flying in the grime 
They knocked off Albert’s hat and hit the landlords cat 
And stopped to suck a lemon at half time.

Now the second half got dirty as they were both feeling a bit shirty 
Spotty Bum hit Albert with his rubber leg 
Cowheel Lou could stand no more, she picked up pianola from floor 
Chucked it and killed them both stone dead.

Now north of Oldham south of Diggle, there’s a broken hearted gal 
Who tends the grave so cold and so bare 
For at Clog Hill above the valley where the wind howls night and day 
Spotty Bum and dangerous Albert are buried there.

So if you go ‘cross Saddleworth Moor where the wind whips up from Diggle 
And you think you hear thunder in the east 
Its not thunder ‘cross those hillocks it’s the ghost of those two pillocks
Knocking buggery out of each other with their tambourines.