Paroles The bear and the butcher boy Gaelic Storm

The bear and the butcher boy

Wrapped up in brown paper
Tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing

Well, Billy Batty was a butcher boy
He rode a butcher’s bike
Down Dublin’s dirty back streets
At the dawning of daylight
He loved a girl named Lucy
Lucy loved another lad
A soldier, tall and handsome
This made young Billy sad
One day the circus came to town
It had a dancing bear
Well, Billy had to go
For he knew she would be there
The second he rode up
He know that something was awry
The crowd was all a gallop
Yelling, “Run before you die!”
Well, the bear was mad with hunger
And had broke free from his chain
He had rampaged through the bigtop
When all at once he came
Across the poor, young Lucy
Fallen, curled up on the ground
The soldier boy was hiding
He was nowhere to be found

Wrapped up in brown paper
Tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing

Now, Billy heard her screams
And knew at once what he must do
He took off on his trusty bike
And to her aid, he flew
He cycled right up to the bear
And he threw a piece of meat
The bear spun right around
And he caught that beefy treat
He scarfed it down in just one bite
And looked up for some more
Around in circles, Billy
Trailing sausage on the floor
Just out of reach he kept him
As he lured the beast away
The bear had got a taste
Now, brave, young Billy was his prey

Wrapped up in brown paper
Tied up with white string
He would whistle as he went
When he was happy, he would sing

He would sing
Three times around the tent
The creature had to stop
He rested and he thought
Then he began to skip and hop
He danced a polka and a waltz
To everyone’s delight
The crowd began to clap and cheer
At such a wondrous site
Billy tossed the bear a lambchop
Then a mighty T-bone steak
The dancing just got faster
And the ground began to shake
He swallowed, whole, two turkeys
Strings of sausages galore
Then full, he gently lay down
And began to loudly snore
Well, the crowd went wild with pleasure
As to our hero Lucy ran
She forgot the soldier boy
Now, brave young Billy was her man
Now, the moral of this story is
If you want to win your Lucy
You'd better have a trusty bike
And a sausage, plump and juicy
A sausage, plump and juicy

Wrapped up in brown paper
Tied up with white string
Now, he never whistles,
Every day, every day he sings
La da...
And every day, every day he sings
La da...

You’ve got chitterlings and chicken wings
Liver, tongue or tail
Gizzards, skirt or marrowbone
Game hen, grouse or quail
There's trotters, T-bone, legs or thighs
Brisket, neck or jowl
Partridge, duck and turkey
Pheasant, guinea fowl
Rib eye, round or sirloin
Topside, rump or flank
Bison, goat, London broil
Porterhouse or shank
Black pudding, bacon, rashers
Scratchings, chicken feet
Haggis, ham and sweet bread
There's every kind of meat
You've got shoulder, mutton, rabbit
A rack of lamb or chops
Veal, venison, tripe
And kidney, heart or hocks