Ribald songs

The [url=“http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=219053"]"Like a Continental Soldier” thread over in GQ got me thinking about ribald songs. (In that song kids use the lyric “hair” or “ears”, while the ribald version uses “balls” or “boys”.) So I thought I’d start a thread where we can post the lyrics to ribald songs we know.

(To the tune of For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow)
I lost my arm in the army
I lost my leg in the Navy
I lost my balls at Niagara Falls
I lost my dick in a lady!

(I don’t know the name of the tune)
My name is Tom Taylor
My dick is a whaler
My balls, they weigh 49 pounds
If you know a fat lady
Who wants a fat baby
Just tell her Tom Taylor’s in town!

If I were the marrying kind,
And let’s thank the lord I’m not sir,
The kind of girl I’d like to marry would be a scrum half’s daughter.
I’d put it in.
She’d put it in.
We’d both put it in together.
We’d be alright in the middle of the night putting it in together.

And then repeat, replacing ‘scrum half’ and ‘put it in’ with something else. http://www.rugbyclubzug.ch/song_marrying.asp

Don’t throw the piss-pot at him,
Wait 'til 'e gets in bed, then grab his
And swing him ROUND YOUR HEAD,
Until he’s nearly dead.
They’re your hydraulics
You’ll find them hanging
On Monkeys at the Zoo!
Baa da da daa daa!

Fee fi fiddly-eye-all
Riggadiggadig for the One-Ball Riley
Rub it up shove it up balls and all
Riggadiggadig shag all!

(There’s lots more but it would make you blush…)

My favorite bawdy songs have a cadence that reminds me of Robert Service’s poems (“The Cremation of Sam McGhee”, etc.). Here is an example, of which there are dozens of spin-offs (a lesbian version, an Old-West version, and so on).
The Ballad of Eskimo Nell

Gather 'round, all you whorey,
Gather 'round, and hear my story.
When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
And the tip of his prick turns blue;
When it bends in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
He can tell you a tale or two.
So pull up a chair and stand me a drink,
And a tale to you I’ll tell
About Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
And a harlot named Eskimo Nell.
When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Go forth in search of fun,
It’s Dead-Eye Dick that swings the prick,
And Mexican Pete the gun.
When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Are sore, depressed and sad,
It’s always a cunt that bears the brunt,
But the shooting’s not so bad.
Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Lived down by Dead Man’s Creek,
And such was their luck that they’d had no fuck
For nigh on half a week.
Oh, a moose or two, and a caribou,
And a bison cow or so,
But for Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,
This fucking was mighty slow.
Dick pound on his cock with a huge piece of rock,
And he said, “I want to play!,
It’s been almost a week at this fucking creek,
With no cunt coming my way!”
So, do or dare, this horny pair
Set off for the Rio Grande:
Dead-Eye Dick with his kingly prick,
And Pete with his gun in hand.
Then, as they blazed their noisy trail,
No man, their path withstood.
Many a bride, her husband’s pride,
A pregnant widow stood.
They reached the strand of the Rio Grand
At the height of a blazing noon.
To slake their thirst, and do their worst,
They sought Black Mike’s saloon.
The swinging doors they pushed back wide,
Both prick and gun flashed free.
“According to sex, you bleeding wrecks,
You’ll drink or you’ll fuck with me!”
Now, they’d heard of the prick of Dead-Eye Dick,
From the Yukon to Panama,
So, with scarcely worse than a muttered curse,
The fellows all sought the bar.
When Dick walked in to a house of sin,
The whores all cursed their luck,
Not even a tart dared let out a fart,
When he said - “I want to fuck!”
The girls they knew of his playful ways
Down on the Rio Grande,
And forty whores pulled down their drawers
At Dead-eye Dick’s command.
For they saw the finger of Mexican Pete
Move on the trigger grip,
So they didn’t wait and at a fearful rate
Those whores began to strip.
Now, Dead-Eye Dick was breathing quick
With lecherous snorts and grunts,
So forty butts were bared to view,
And likewise forty cunts.
Now, forty butts and forty cunts,
If you can use your wits,
And if you’re slick, at arithmetic,
Makes exactly eighty tits.
Sure, eighty tits are a gladsome sight
For a man with a raging stand.
It may be rare in Berkeley Square,
But not on the Rio Grande!
Now Dead-Eye Dick had fucked a few
On the last preceding night,
This he had done just to have some fun
And to whet his appetite.
His phallic limb was in fucking trim.
As he backed and took a run,
He made a dart at the nearest tart,
and scored a hole in one.
The lady he bore to the dusty floor,
And there he filled her fine,
And though she grinned, it put the wind
Up the other thirty-nine.
When Dead-Eye Dick lets loose his prick,
He has no time to spare,
With speed and strength, combined with length,
He fairly singes hair.
He had made a dart at the next fair tart,
When into that harlot’s hell
Strode a gentle maid who was unfraid:
Her name was Eskimo Nell.
But Dead-Eye Dick had got his prick
Well into number two,
When Eskimo Nell let out a yell.
She bawled to him, “Hey, you!”
Dick gave a flick of his muscular prick,
And the girl flew over his head,
He then wheeled about with an angry shout;
His face and his balls were red.
Nell glanced our hero up and down,
His looks she seemed to decry.
With utter scorn, she sneered at the horn
Which rose from his hairy thigh.
She blew the smoke of her cigarette
All over his steaming knob.
So utterly beat was Mexican Pete
That he failed to do his job.
It was Eskimo Nell who broke the spell
In accents clear and cool:
"You cunt-struck shrimp of a Yankee pimp!
You call that thing a tool?
“If this here town can’t take that down,”
She said to those cowering whores,
“There’s another cunt that can do the stunt,
But it Eskimo Nell’s, not yours.”
She dropped her garments one by one
With an air of consumate pride,
And as she stood in her womanhood,
They saw the Great Divide.
She seated herself on a table top,
Where someone had left a glass.
With a twitch of her tits, she crushed it to bits
Between the cheeks of her ass.
She flexed her knees with supple ease,
And spread her thighs apart.
With a friendly nod to the mangy sod,
She gave him the cue to start.
Now, Dead-Eye Dick knew more than one trick,
And he meant to take his time,
For a woman like this was orgasmic bliss,
So he played the pantomime.
He flexed his asshole to and fro,
And made his balls inflate,
Until they looked like the granite knobs
On the top of a palace gate.
He blew his anus inside out,
His balls increased in size,
His mighty prick grew twice as thick
And reached almost to his eyes.
He polished his dick with alcohol,
Then, to make it steaming hot,
He finished the job, when he sprinkled his knob
With a cayenne pepperpot.
Then he did neither start to run
Nor did he take a leap,
Nor did he stoop, but with a swoop
Began a steady, forward creep.
As a marksman might, he took a sight
Along his mighty tool,
And his steady grin as he pushed it in
Showed a calculated cool.
Have you ever seen the pistons
On the mighty C.P.R.,
With the driving force of a thousand horse?
Well, then you know what pistons are.
Or, you think you do, but you’ve yet to see
The ins and outs of the trick
Of the work that’s done on a non-stop run
By a fellow like Dead-Eye Dick.
But Eskimo Nell was no infidel,
As good as a whole harem
With the strength of ten in her abdomen
And the Rock of Ages between.
With nary a scream, she could take the stream
Like the flush of a watercloset.
Now, she gripped his cock like a Chatswood Lock
On the National Safe Deposit.
But Dead-Eye Dick would not come quick,
He meant to conserve his powers,
For if he’d a mind, he’d grind and grind
For sixteen solid hours.
Nell lay a while with a subtle smile,
Then the grip of her cunt grew keener,
And a squeeze of her thigh then sucked him dry
With the ease of a vacuum cleaner.
She performed this trick in a way so slick
As to set in complete defiance
The principal cause and basic laws
That govern sexual science.
She calmly rode through the phallic code
Which for years had withstood the test,
And the ancient rules of the classic schools
In a moment or two, went west.
Right here, my friend, we come to the end
Of copulation’s classic:
The effect on Dick was sudden and quick
And akin to an anaesthetic.
He fell to the floor, and he knew no more,
His passions extinct and dead,
Nor did he shout as his cock fell out,
Though 'twas stripped right down to a thread.
Then, Mexican Pete did leap to his feet
To avenge his pal’s affront,
With a jarring jolt of his blue-nosed Colt,
He rammed it up Nellie’s cunt.
He rammed it hard to the trigger guard,
Then fired two times three,
But to his surprise, Nell closed her eyes
And smiled in ecstacy.
She rose to her feet with a smile so sweet,
Then “Bully,” she said, "for you.
Though I might have guessed that that was the best
That you two poor pimps could do.
"When next, my friend, that you intend
To sally forth for fun,
Buy Dead-Eye Dick a sugar stick,
And yourself an elephant gun.
"I’m going forth to the frozen North
Where the peckers are hard and strong,
Back to the land of the frozen stand
Where the nights are six months long.
"It’s hard as tin when they put it in
In the land where spunk is spunk.
Not a trickling stream of lukewarm cream,
But a solid, frozen chunk.
"Back to the land where they understand
What it means to fornicate,
Where even the dead sleep two in a bed
And the babies masturbate.
"Back to the land of the grinding gland,
Where the walrus plays with his prong,
Where the polar bear wanks off in his lair,
That’s where they’ll sing this song.
"They’ll tell this tale on the Arctic trail
Where the nights are sixty below,
Where it’s so damn cold the jonnies are sold
Wrapped up in a ball of snow.
"In the Valley of Death with baited breath,
That’s where they’ll sing it too,
Where the skeletons rattle in sexual battle
And the rotting corpses screw.
“Back to the land where men are Men,
I’ll say ‘Terra Bellicum,’
And there I’ll spend my worthy end,
For the North is calling: ‘Come!’”
Then Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Slunk away from the Rio Grande,
Dead-Eye Dick with his useless prick,
And Pete with no gun in his hand.
When a man grows old and his balls grow cold,
And the tip of his prick turns blue,
And the hole in the middle refuses to piddle,
I’d say he was fucked, wouldn’t you?

The Moose Song

When I was a young lad I used to like girls,
I played with their bodies and fondled their curls.
Till my girl ran off with a Captain named Bruce.
Oh you’ll never get treated like that by a moose!

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

When I’m in the mood for a good lay,
I go to the closet and get me some hay.
I open the window and spread it around,
Cause the moose always come when there’s hay on the ground!

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

I’ve done it with all sorts of beasties with hair;
I’d do it with snakes if their fangs were not there,
I’ve done it with llamas, sheep, dogs and a goose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose!

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

Now a gorilla is all right for a Saturday night,
And lions and tigers they put up a fight.
But it’s just not the same when you slam their caboose
Like the feeling you get when you hump on a moose.

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

The king of the gods is a fellow named Zeus,
On top of Olympus with an urge to seduce.
They offered him virgins but he’d just refuse,
“Screw all of your virgins and bring me a moose!”

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

And now I am old and advanced in my years.
As I look o’er my life, I will shed me no tears.
So I sit in my chair with a glass of prune juice,
Playing hide the salami with Marvin the Moose!

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

I’ve died, gone to heaven, my soul soars away
I show up at those gates with my bale of hay
Now they’re bound to inquire as to my grin
And I’ll wind up in hell humpin’ mooses again

Then its moose, moose, I want a moose.
I have never had anything quite like a moose.
I’ve had many women, me life has been loose,
But I’ve never had anything quite like a moose.

From Mason Williams (the same man who brought us the guitar classic Classical Gas:

Ok, maybe not ribald but certainly funny - especially when someone else is talking about humping the creatures!

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Hedgehog Song:


Search the web for John Valby. A wealth of dirt is to be found.

She told me she loved me like a brother. She was from Arkansas, hence the Joy!

And of course…

*It was on the good ship *Venus
By Christ, you should have seen us
The figurehead was a whore in bed
And the mast was a rampant penis

I know that this is a “traditional” bawdy song, but that’s all I’ll post just in case the version I know is © by The Sex Pistols.

I always liked the cadence used in An Officer and a Gentleman. To wit:

Casey Jones was a son of a bitch
Drove his train through a thirty foot ditch
Came up from the ditch with his dick in his hand
Said, “Hey there ladies, I’m a hell of a man!”

He lined a hundred women up against the wall
Said before I die I’m gonna fuck 'em all
He fucked 98 then his balls turned blue
So he backed off, jacked off, and fucked the other two


cher3, the OTHER hedgehog song, with the original and some history:

Insert your own universities and naval colleges, we do. In fact here is our choir’s version. To the tune of the old folksong “Botany Bay”

The sexual life of the camel
Is stranger than anyone thinks,
At the height of the mating season
He tries to bugger the Sphinx,
But the sphin's posterior sphincter
Is clogged by the sands of the Nile,
Which accounts for the hump on the camel
And the Sphinx's inscrutable smile.

(Insert chorus with slapping gestures and raising arms for the whee!)
Singing bum titty titty, bum titty titty, titty bum
Singing bum titty titty, bum titty titty, Wheeeee!
Singing bum titty titty, bum titty titty, titty bum
Singing bum titty titty, bum titty titty, Wheeeee!

In the process of Syphilization
From the anthropoid ape unto man
It is generally held that the Navy
Has buggered whatever it can.
Yet recent extensive researches
By Darwin and Huxley and Ball
Conclusively prove that the hedgehog
Can never be buggered at all.


And further researches at Oxford
Have incontrovertibly shown
That comparative safety on shipboard
Is enjoyed by the hedgehog alone.
But, why haven't they done it at Creswell,
As they've done it at Harvard and Yale
And also at Oxford and Cambridge
By shaving the spines off its tail!


the latter two verses morph around a lot with names

Ok, where are the tunes to these songs??? How can we sing them without tunes???

Child -

If you do not recognize the cadence and/or melodies of these classics, please consult a competant local attorney - it is obvious that you have received a deficient education - one which will deprive you of many pleasures which are your birthright.

Sue the bastards!

p.s. - it’s “The Shooting of Dan McGrew”

Cybersnark, there is nothing finer than the citing of that classic ballad. Eskimo Nell.

Bah! I wanted to post the “Ball of Kirriemuir” but have some trouble making the comp use what little memory it has etc. Plus there are not only too many verses, but too many versions. Still, anyone who watns to Google for “The Ball of Kirriemuir” might be amused.

You know, it is a funny thing, but I reckon it was not written by Kirriemuir’s (only) well-known writer, i.e. James Barrie (“Peter Pan” etc.)


Wow, good timing for me to return to the fold (yeah, like I posted all that much back when I was regularly wasting my time here!)

The Engineer Song
(to the tune of "Froggy went a’courtin’ or something like that)

Ah-hum, titty-bum, titty-bum, titty-bum,
An engineer told me before he died,
Ah-hum, ah-hum.
An engineer told me before he died,
I have no reason to believe he lied,
Ah-hum, titty-bum, titty-bum, titty-bum,
Ah-hum, titty-bum, titty-bum, titty-bum.

He said no matter what he tried
Ah-hum, ah-hum.
He said no matter what he tried
His wife was never satisfied
Ah-hum, titty-bum, titty-bum, titty-bum,
Ah-hum, titty-bum, titty-bum, titty-bum.

(Continue with the “Ah-hum”s and the “titty-bums” as appropriate)

That girl she had a cunt so wide
She could never be satisfied,

The engineer was a designer,
Measured the bore of her vagina,

Then he built her a cock of steel,
Powered by a bloody great wheel,

Yes he built a bloody great wheel,
Two brass balls and a prick of steel

Two balls of brass were filled with cream,
And the whole bloody thing was driven by steam.

He tied her legs to the foot of the bed,
Tied her hands above her head,

There she lay demanding a fuck,
He shook her hand and wished her luck,

Round and round went the bloody great wheel,
In and out went the cock of steel,

Up and up went the level of steam,
Down and down went the level of cream.

Till at last the lady cried,
“Enough! Enough! I am satisfied!”

Now we come to the tragic bit,
There was no way of stopping it,

It went like the piston of a train,
He should have fitted a gearing chain,

Clouds of steam blew out the top,
There wasn’t a way to make it stop,

She was split from ass to tit,
And the whole fucking thing was covered in shit,

It jumped off her, it jumped on him,
And then it buggered their next of kin,

It jumped on a departing bus,
And the mess it made caused quite a fuss,

The last time, Sir, that prick was seen,
Was in Buckingham Palace fucking the Queen,

There’s a moral to the story I tell,
If you see it coming better run like hell,

Nine months later a child was born,
With two brass balls and a bloody great horn,

The warning in the story is,
Always fit a safety switch,

The crux of the matter is plain to be seen,
You should never trust a FUCKING MACHINE!

“Bestiality’s Best”
(to the tune of “Tie me Kangaroo Down”)

This is one of those songs that you can keep adding verses to as long as your creativity and beer holds out. Get it going at a rugby party or the circle for the Hash House Harriers, and it can go for quite a while!

(Chorus) Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best! (Fuck a wallaby!)
Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best…

Shove your log in a dog, boys,
Shove your log in a dog
Shove your log in a dog, boys
Shove your log in a dog


(Chorus) Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best! (Fuck a wallaby!)
Bestiality’s best, boys,
Bestiality’s best…

Intercourse with a horse, boys…

Shove your rod up a cod, boys…

Get a suck from a duck…

Sixty-nine with a swine…

Shoot your goo in a gnu…

Up the hole of a mole…

Have a frig with a pig…

NOTE: There’re also female-centric verses!
Take the tool of a mule, girls…

Have a shag with a stag, girls

And so on, and so on. It really is more fun to sing than to read :wink:

Don’t know what the tune is for this. It’s just kind of sing-songy.

Sally in the Alley

Sally in the alley siftin’ cinders
Lifted up her leg and farted like a man
Force from the blast blew out six winders’
Cheeks of her ass went “blam blam blam”

Barnacle Bill the Sailor?

And I even knew this one, 'cepting maybe the really raunchy parts, when I was about five or six. Gotta love a mother who knows how to teach her young daughter quality musical pieces. :smiley: