WEE HONEY JAR
Lyrics and Music: Harry Robertson
Grim warning to all singers who would go to Melbourne town,
Beware of all night parties and the grog that’s guzzled down,
Folk singers are the worst of all, most dangerous by far,
But most of all watch Affley, and his little honey jar.
Wee honey jar — wee honey jar,
A tall bearded man wi’ a spoon and a jar.
Mike Ball and Hendo, Spooner and a bloke called MacIntyre,
They all were in a bloody plot to set me guts on fire,
They called it hospitality and strummed on their guitars,
Now ‘Doctor’ Affley’s curing me wi’ his little honey jar.
Now raise your head old friend of mine and open up your mouth,
You’re due to sing in an hour or so, that’s why you’ve come down south,
For last night’s cheer has made you sick and dimmed your bleary eye,
But with this jar of honey mate, I’ll see that you don’t die.
Oh, tall and slender buddy pal with the rich mahogany voice,
I tremble at your treatment, but you give me little choice,
So let’s head for The Festival, watch how ye drive the car,
And I’ll sit here in the back seat, and I’ll sup the honey jar.
Oh, what success I’ve had, said he, in curing blokes like you,
The secret of the treatment is in knowing what to do,
First you get your patient blotto so he can’t stray very far,
And when at last he wakens up, you belt him with the jar.
© Harry Robertson,
and subsequently ©1995 Mrs Rita Robertson, Brisbane, AUSTRALIA
Registered with APRA/AMCOS www.apra-amcos.com.au