BRAY ON THE DARGLE FLOWING
OUT TO THE SEA
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Air:The Mountains of Mourne
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Oh, Ducky, this
Bray town would make your head light
Seeing nothing but Road Hogs from morning till night,
On Quinsboro' road or along the main street
They're the bane of all speed cops upon the
Bray beat.
When outside the town they do eighty I'm told,
Which makes the hot blood of Jay-
walkers run cold,
They don't think but they're sure there's a daily T.T.
Around
Bray on the Dargle flowing out to the sea.
A short time ago we were all much depressed
By the way a young "Garbo" in
Bray here was dressed.
She hardly was bound for a talkie or ball -
Just returning home from the briny - that was all.
Perhaps she'd a cocktail before her sea bath,
Maybe two, maybe three, 'tis as likely as not.
Now we fumed and said, " Scram, Miss, you can't make Wembley
Out of our
Bray on the Dargle flowing out to the sea."
In Dublin the latest's a double deck 'bus,
Good Lord! please do keep such contraptions from us;
If they come - though of noise we have now got the best -
In "Morpheus Arms" no more we'll find rest.
If the "Realm Divine" should abscond from our shore,
O'er same and o'er Yoddling we'll ne'er again snore,
With "Barardogs" and Hansoms once happy were we
In
Bray on the Dargle flowing out to the sea.
You've heard of the "Vicar of
Bray,' Dear, of course;
Well, he thinks that the times here have changed for the worse;
As we talked here today near the "Swanky" band stand
We'd half "Monto Carlo" from
Bray Head on hand.
He told me that Swash-buckling days are now gone,
With Crooning and Jazzing from sunset to dawn
He sighs for the Stuarts and his Bonnie Charlie
In
Bray on the Dargle flowing out to the sea.
As regards to the food here, the spirits and wine
We have got all the yokes Mrs. Beeton thought fine,
From Pice-de-Reistence, with trifle and crame,
To "A La-carte Luncheons," a six-course that same.
As regards the spirits we don't such, here, sip,
For the law if you're "nabbed" is severe on the hip;
The best liquor of all is the "sweet cup of tea"
In
Bray on the Dargle flowing out to the sea.
"The Cavan Cadet," author of "The Hollow Below," "One of the Anty quare-ones," "London on Thames a Funny 'Ol Shop," etc., etc.
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