Em a Bee It’s a Big Horse

A Traditional Cockernee View on the Discomforture of Moving Home

Knock, knock!
Who’s there?
Em a bee it’s a big horse
Em a bee it’s a big horse who?
Em a bee it’s a big horse I’m a Londoner, that I love London so...

Ah yes, the lost days of music hall, of communal singing down the pub, that traditional working class staple so beautifully evoked by Terence Davies in Distant Voices, Still Lives (yes it was Liverpool but well...).

They can cancel the aircraft carriers but we’ve still got the Battle Cruiser (or just about).

So gather, if you will, around the old Joanna, that’s the piano not the typeface designed by Eric Gill.

Gentlemen, pint in one hand, spare thumb hooked under one of your braces, ladies, look sweet and fragrant, while sipping a port and lemon and orf we jolly well go… (to the tune of My Old Man Said Follow The Van)…

My ol’ man said be a Chelsea fan,
And read about ‘em every day,
But off went me blog with me posts locked in it,
They couldn’t stand OleOle, they just took agin’ it.

I dillied, I dallied, I dallied and I dillied,
Lorst the blog, now don’t know where to moan,
‘Cause there’s no other site like those Chelsea bloggers,
Good ol’ Kaiser, Nick and Tone...

(Segue back to the finish of Maybe It’s Because…)

Get orf yer granny, ‘cause I laarv Lunnun Taarn
Don’t touch me sister, ‘cause I laarv Lunnun Taarn... etc...

Thank you Landlord, I’ll have a Light and Bitter.