While not decrying the noble work of Cecil Sharp and the English Folk Song and Dance Society in rescuing so much of our heritage, it does seem that the Folk Song has attracted a lot of ridicule. And why not? I hear you cry... Here's a faux folk number from one of the creators of the similar agricultural mulch delivered by Rambling Syd Rumpo, Marty Feldman. Written, not by Marty and Barry Took, but by Dennis King and John Junkin, this is the moralistic tale of...

In an old village called Churdling-cum-Strando

(male voice group)
Wack! Wack!
Go kick a neighbour.

They did have a church with a steeple so grand-o

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
I hate my old mum.

For hundreds of years now the bell in that steeple

Wack! Wack!
Spreading the muck round.

Had never been heard by the village's people

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
May I leave the room?

[Chos]
Rum-tiddle-iddle-tum-tiddle-iddle
Scum on the water,
Lint in your navel and
Sand in your tea.

In old days the squire had a beautiful daughter

Wack! Wack!
Nina and Fredrick

She loved the poor verger and one night dad caught her

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
I just hurt my foot.

'I love him, dear dad' she said, Tears she was shedding.

Wack! Wack!
Half day on Thursday.

'Quite likely' said father, and battered her head in.

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do Superfluous hair.

[Chos]

And then as she laid there all dead-like and messy

Wack! Wack!
Go burst your ulcer.

The bell stopped its ringing to mourn for poor Bessy

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
I think I feel sick.

Then just yesterday a young couple went walking

Wack! Wack!
Go stand on your head now.

Beneath that same bell of which I've been talking

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
And one for his knob.

[Chos]

They stopped and he cuddled her waist young and supple

Wack! Wack!
Lord Baden-Powell

And down fell the bell right onto the young couple

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
Here's mud in your eye.

The moral I give more in sorrow than anger

Wack! Wack!
Egg beans and sausage.

Make love 'neath a bell and you might drop a clanger

Fol-diddle-diddle-i-do
And that's your damn' lot!

[Chos]
Rum-tiddle-iddle-tum-tiddle-iddle
Scum on the water,
Lint in your navel and
Sand in your tea.
Lint in your navel and
Sand in your tea.