She kissed me like a child; fresh and peckish, like a child;
She was wild as little strawberries.
But though she kissed me as a child would do,
She clung on a little longer than she needed to.
I did it for a dare: "Go and kiss her for a dare!"
In the middle of the village square!
She was as seventeenish as the month of May.
And her daddy was a butcher in a pie-and-puddings way.
But then this kiss, this kiss, this little skirmish of a kiss
Was importunately witnessed
By the twitching whiskers and the bulging eyes
Of a couple of the local ladies who were passing by,
Passing by, passing by . . .
Couple of the local ladies who were passing by.
It was misunderstood, this pretty kiss misunderstood
By the squinting sisterhood,
And thus the whisper, whisper went from pinafore to pinafore,
Every "Tut-tut!" more grievous than the "Well I never!" before.
Until her daddy heard, her demented daddy heard
Every grisly whispered word.
And stepping fresh from the slaughterhouse the crimson butcher ran,
The steam around his shoulders still, a cleaver still in his hand.
"Well, you may buy my pies," he cries, "my puddings, buy my pies.
"Keep your whippersnapping eyes
"From off the juicy beauty of my daughter, who
"Is a t**-bit far too tasty for the lips of the likes of you,
"Likes of you, likes of you . . .
"Far too tasty for the lips of the layabout likes of you."
He swung his cleaver high, swung his whistling cleaver high,
And his cry was agonising:
"I shall follow King Solomon's decision, inasmuch
"As I'm off to split you down the middle, easy, collarbone to crutch!"
But with a single bound, his daughter, with a springy bound
Flung her arms and legs around me, singing,
"Split all you wish to, Daddy, let the cleaver fall,
"And you shall split me likewise, precious t**bits and all."
"I am my own to give, nobody else but mine to give.
"Perhaps I'll give it to this whippersnapper,
"Backbone to belly-b***on, tongue-tip to toe,
"From nipples up above to bushy triangle below,
"Down below, down below ...
"My tangled diamond down below."
Which came as news to me, both to the butcher man and me,
But who was I to disagree?
What with my nose in her breastbone, her haunches in my hand
And a chopper in the offing, there was a lot to understand.
The cleaver never, never fell. The jealous cleaver never fell.
And although my eyes were elsewhere,
By a pressing little message of her elbows and thighs
She'd let me know her daddy'd gone, tears in his eyes.
She kissed me like a child; fresh and peckish, like a child;
She was wild as little strawberries.
But though she kissed me as a child would do,
She clung on a little longer than she needed to,
Needed to, needed to . . .
On a little longer than she needed to do.
She was wild as little strawberries.
But though she kissed me as a child would do,
She clung on a little longer than she needed to.
I did it for a dare: "Go and kiss her for a dare!"
In the middle of the village square!
She was as seventeenish as the month of May.
And her daddy was a butcher in a pie-and-puddings way.
But then this kiss, this kiss, this little skirmish of a kiss
Was importunately witnessed
By the twitching whiskers and the bulging eyes
Of a couple of the local ladies who were passing by,
Passing by, passing by . . .
Couple of the local ladies who were passing by.
It was misunderstood, this pretty kiss misunderstood
By the squinting sisterhood,
And thus the whisper, whisper went from pinafore to pinafore,
Every "Tut-tut!" more grievous than the "Well I never!" before.
Until her daddy heard, her demented daddy heard
Every grisly whispered word.
And stepping fresh from the slaughterhouse the crimson butcher ran,
The steam around his shoulders still, a cleaver still in his hand.
"Well, you may buy my pies," he cries, "my puddings, buy my pies.
"Keep your whippersnapping eyes
"From off the juicy beauty of my daughter, who
"Is a t**-bit far too tasty for the lips of the likes of you,
"Likes of you, likes of you . . .
"Far too tasty for the lips of the layabout likes of you."
He swung his cleaver high, swung his whistling cleaver high,
And his cry was agonising:
"I shall follow King Solomon's decision, inasmuch
"As I'm off to split you down the middle, easy, collarbone to crutch!"
But with a single bound, his daughter, with a springy bound
Flung her arms and legs around me, singing,
"Split all you wish to, Daddy, let the cleaver fall,
"And you shall split me likewise, precious t**bits and all."
"I am my own to give, nobody else but mine to give.
"Perhaps I'll give it to this whippersnapper,
"Backbone to belly-b***on, tongue-tip to toe,
"From nipples up above to bushy triangle below,
"Down below, down below ...
"My tangled diamond down below."
Which came as news to me, both to the butcher man and me,
But who was I to disagree?
What with my nose in her breastbone, her haunches in my hand
And a chopper in the offing, there was a lot to understand.
The cleaver never, never fell. The jealous cleaver never fell.
And although my eyes were elsewhere,
By a pressing little message of her elbows and thighs
She'd let me know her daddy'd gone, tears in his eyes.
She kissed me like a child; fresh and peckish, like a child;
She was wild as little strawberries.
But though she kissed me as a child would do,
She clung on a little longer than she needed to,
Needed to, needed to . . .
On a little longer than she needed to do.