How well I remember when I was a lad,
The annual outing that we always had.
For every Whit Monday, we wended our way,
To Codnor Park Monument, just for the day.
What a marvellous 'Band of Hope' treat,
But the two things that made it complete.
Were a bottle of red and a bun.
At the monument every Whitsun,
At the start of the day,
On a cart or a dray,
We would go in procession and hear the bands play.
There were Maypoles and flags by the score,
There were Band of Hope banners galore,
When we met in the square, we would all say a prayer,
For a bottle of red and a bun.

The same 'Punch and Judy' we saw every year,
We listened to bandsmen - who never drank beer,
The same concert party would put on a show,
And into the hall for our teas we would go.
We'd eat mountains of trifles and jellies,
But we'd always leave room in our bellies,
For a bottle of red and a bun.
At the monument we had such fun,
We would run like the breeze,
In and out of the trees,
We would hide in the bushes, and nettle our knees,
All the girls in their flounces and frills,
We would chase down the valleys and hills,
If we'd ever caught 'em, I'm sure we'd have bought 'em,
A bottle of red and a bun.

 

Although I am old and my memories fade,
I shall always remember one conquest I made,
With one little girls who I fancied a lot,
I was hidden away in a very quiet spot,
With great passion I kissed her, and then,
She said, "Dear, you can kiss me again."
"For a bottle of red and a bun."
It was over before it began.
For I hadn't a cent, all my money was spent,
All I had was a farthing, all twisted and bent,
I said, "Darling, I worship you." - but,
She said, "Clear off and jump in the cut!"
But knew I could court her, if I could have bought her,
A bottle of red and a bun.