International — Boat Race. Boat Race
Hark; the bells are merrily ringing,
Doodah, doodah,
The lads and lasses gaily singing,
Oh doodah day.
With turban hair, and slender waist,
Doodah, doodah!
They are off to see the Great Boat Race!
Oh! doodah day.
They pull with all their might,
One must pull it off to day,
Through thick and thin, let the best men win,
But give them both fair play.
Such sights were never seen on land or river,
Such wonderful things you will discover
The girl of the period—like clothes props.—
Like a stick stuck on the head of a mop!
Then a fat old lady bought a barge
To see the sight so grand and large,
Some one told her it was rotten,
So they tarr’d her bows and cork’d her bottom.
The next was a skiff, a gent and his daughter
Oh Pa’ the boat is making water!
They were in a mess, depend upon it,
She bailed her out with her plate bonnet.
Here they come and there they go,
Quite as good as the Lord Mayor’s Show;
A scream!—what’s the matter?—that’s something good.
A girl’s heels stuck up, and her head in the mud.
The Americans, some say, will win it,
Look at their move, forty strokes a minute,
So you chaps you’d better look to it
Just tell me the chap or girl that can do it.
On the road some thousand lads and lasses,
Singing, laughing and drinking their glasses,
With legs as thick as cabbage stumps,
Some wearing horns like the handle of a pump.
Some of the girls will stop out all night,
Just to look at the stars and stripes,
Standing on tiptoe, in such a bustle,
Just to look at the men’s big muscle.
The Oxford lads look good and clever,
Go it, lads, now or never!
We know what you can do if you like
Just keep down the stars and stripes.
Mr Caudle and family went on the water,
Twelve in family, sons and daughters;
The boat went down, by hook or by crook,
They pulled them out with a boat hook.
Such a glorious sight was never seen,
But we did not expect to see the Queen;
The Prince rode in a donkey cart,
He wack’d the moke till he made him start.
Success to the Havard, do the best they can
And the Oxford too and every man,
Let every one keep his place,
No matter to us who wins the race.
To get lodging, oh, such a bother,
They all pig in with one another,
They all lay down all of a lump,
One pillows his head on another’s rump.
So rolling home so tight,
So happy and so gay,
Success to all rowing men,—
May the best men win the day.
H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London.