The Wurzels

"A Taste Of The West"   CD

Track 1      Pill Pill

When the nights are dark and stormy
And the bitter north wind blows
From the fields of Shirehampton
Where the muddy Avon flows
Where the Pillites gently ride
Floating down the river from the other side
The boat starts heaving, you'll hear them singing
Floating on the tide

(Chorus)
Pill Pill I love thee still, even though I'm leaving
Pill Pill I love thee still, when the ferry boat starts heaving
When the rain downpours, thunder roars, lightning flashes bright
I'll be better by far in The Duke or The Star
Than on the old Pill ferry tonight

Take me where it's warm and cosy
Down there with they happy boys
Where the cheeks are red and rosy
Hobblers, hobblers, hobble-de-hoys
Where the bitter winter sleet
Creeps across the riverbank, chills your feet
For miles around, you'll hear the sound
Coming down Pill Street

(Repeat Chorus)

[Instrumental]

(Repeat Chorus)

On the seven seas I've wandered
Back to Pill I shall return
When the hard-earned cash is squandered
For the local girls I yearn
Captain, captain carry me
Sail me up the channel past Portbury
Head me down South towards Avonmouth
And happy I will be

(Repeat Chorus)

Well I'll be better by far in The Duke or The Star
Than on the old Pill ferry tonight

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ah, ha ha ha



Track 2     Sunny Weston Super Mare

I packed me bags and left the farm, I packed it in for sure
I swore I'd never drive no tractor any more
Old Mother said you must be mad as I walked out the door
And Father shouted lazy lout, don't come back no more

(Chorus)
I'm off now, off to sunny Weston Super Mare
Super Mare, Super Mare
I'm off to sunny Weston Super Mare
They say you'll always find a welcome way down there

Now a farmer's life is very good as people often say
Lots of clean fresh air, and cider every day
But when the harvest time comes round the sun it dries your lips
I'd sooner lay upon the beach and eat me fish and chips

(Repeat Chorus)

I'd long to walk on golden beach where shady palm trees grow
Forget thit mucking out, and no more fields to mow
The icy cold at Winer time that makes you freeze and shake
I've left it all behind me, I've really made the break

(Repeat Chorus)

If paradise is half as nice then this is where I'll stay
The farmyard's far away from this lovely sandy bay
I'll walk along the promenade, forget that country lane
Just write and tell the folks back home I won't be back again

(Repeat Chorus x 2)

I'm off to sunny Weston Super Mare
Super Mare, Super Mare
I'm off to sunny Weston Super Mare
They say you'll always find a welcome way down there
They say you'll always find a welcome way down there
They say you'll always find a welcome way down there

Track 3    Virtuet Industrial

Now we be Bristol kiddies, we comes from Bristol city
Where all the boys be ‘andsome, and all the girls be pretty
Weem proud of our home-town, we never lets 'un down
We got this little motto, what we sings up Bedminster Down

Oh! Virtute et industrial, three cheers for Nover's Hill
If the City don't win on Saturday, perhaps they Rovers will
Virtute et industrial, go shout it to thee neighbour
Virtute et industrial, and we'll see thee down the Labour

Praise the city Fathers, cos they knows what they'm doing
Don't listen to they moaners, they says weem going to ruin
They talk of Portbury, but I aint kidding thee
Who wants docks when all the locks on the lavatories be free

Oh! Virtute et industrial, long live all the brewers
Build more pubs and betting shops, don't waste 'n on the sewers
Virtute et industrial, let's have another drink
Virtute et industrial, and never mind the stink

Now we be living well, bad times is in the distance
We lives it up like hell, on the National Assistance
T'aint that we do shirk, to do a bit of work
But if thee's cust live without it, then who'd be such a berk

Oh! Virtute et industrial, we such a sober people
Bristol's like a gurt big church with a thousand-foot glass steeple
Virtute et industrial, no drunks is ever seen
Virtute et industrial, then thee's know what I mean

Let progress be our watchword, hooray for all the planners
They keeps the traffic moving, and never minds the tanners
From Lulsgate thee's can tear, off to Paris now by air
But the buses down Old Market Street's enough to make thee swear

Oh! Virtute et industrial, Cardiff's now much nearer
They'm gonna print that Evening Post in Welsh to make things clearer
Virtute et industrial, sing nostar yakky dah
Virtute et industrial, what's think of 'ee, ooh arr

With one-way streets and flyovers, we know which way weem facing
Ah seen our brand-new bridge, up there in Cumberland Basin
The cars go by like thunder, and up and round and under
Where they goes nobody knows, t'aint no bleeding wonder

Oh! Virtute et industrial, our city will last forever
If we can't build the Concorde, we'll buy him on the never
Virtute et industrial, who's got ten million quid
Virtute et industrial, then there thee bist then kid

Now the best of Bristol luck, to the Mayor and Corporation
They've just come back from France, a credit to the nation
Mind them keep it dark, they says the old town clerk
Brought back they Folies Bergeres in exchange for Ashton Park

Oh! Virtute et industrial, up the Downs on Sunday
We've spent the rent on Saturday, down Nelson Street on Monday
Virtute et industrial, may Bristol never fail
Virtute et industrial, till weem all down Arnos Vale
Virtute et industrial, till weem all down Arnos Vale
Virtute et industrial, till weem all down Arnos Vale

There thee bist then kid, hey hey


Track 4    Down In Nempnett Thrubwell

If you find life a race, you just can't stand the pace
Come with me, to the Westcountry, the perfect hiding place

Pack your bags, and make your way, to Somerset, and I will lay
Ten to one you'll wanna stay, down in Nempnett Thrubwell
We've got no pub, we've got no shop, you never see a traffic cop
Drink up and no one says stop, down in Nempnett Thrubwell

That's where the cider's strong, the day's forty-eight hours long
There's frogs as big as dogs, that harmonise in song
The pheasants all take part in shoots, the big barn owls don't give two hoots
All the fleas wear hobnail boots, down in Nempnett Thrubwell

[Instrumental]

You never hear of rain or snow, no hail or sleet or rough winds blow
You can hear the grasses grow, down in Nempnett Thrubwell
Now they don't care for house or car, as long as they've a cider jar
They've never heard of Ringo Starr, down in Nempnett Thrubwell

Rabbits there as big as sows, the hens there look the size of cows
All the pigs do Irish jigs, and pigeons pull the plough
So, leave me there, let me grow fat, live and laugh, and after that
Bury me in a cider vat, down in Nempnett Thrubwell
Sleepy Nempnett Thrubwell, dear old Somerset


Track 5    When The Common Market Comes To Stanton Drew

Folks say nowadays, we've got to change our ways
The papers say so, so I 'spose t'is true
We've gotta take the chance, with Germany and France
And live like all they foreign people do
Now I wonder if they'll build the Eiffel Tower on Harptree Hill
Put gondolas down on the River Chew
Shall us all drive on the right, and drink up all the night
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew

Some folks seem to think, we'll have to change our drink
There's rumours flying so I 'spose t'is right
They say they'd seen a tank, of Portuguese vin blanc
Jammed up Pensford High Street t'other night
They say that port and brandy will sell for a pound a quart
And the Druid's Arms won't close till ver’ nigh two
And we'll all drink caviar, from a gurt big cider jar
When the Common Market Comes To Stanton Drew

Now as for what we eat, we must export more meat
Send 'em all our best prime beef and ham
While we do stuff our guts with Transylvanian nuts
And garlic flavoured processed German spam
When George comes home from milking, he'll get a big surprise
When he sits down expecting Irish stew
And his wife says George I'll get 'ee, a gurt dollop of spaghetti
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew

When the market time comes round, down the pub we'll all be found (morning Pete)
Jamming up the public bar all day (ah bonjour Peter)
And you won't get through the doors, for monsieurs and senors (ooh la la)
Arguing about the price of summer hay (oui non oui non oui non)
With Timsbury full of Belgians, and Radstock full of Dutch
The Paulton farmers won't know what to do
And you might see Acker Bilk, advertising Pensford milk
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew

In the evening times I 'spose, we'll sup up our vin rose
Just like they do in the Argentine
And we'll watch they foreign blokes, with their gurt big hats and cloaks
Flamingoing down on the village green
We'll have to watch our wenches, when they dark eyes lads gets here
And the local boys 'll have to form a queue
They'll say ooh la la oui oui, instead of how bist thee
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew
When the Common Market comes to Stanton Drew



Track 6    The Shepton Mallet Matador 

Now Jacko was so happy, just working on the farm
With the cows and chickens, he couldn't do no harm
For years and years he worked, and he scraped, and he saved (he scraped and saved)
To take one day the holiday he craved (holiday he craved)
But now he'll never be the same again (the same again)
Since he took that holiday in Spain

(Chorus)
Oh, oh make way for that Timsbury torero
Ole for that Somerset senor
He's a real Westcountry caballero
The Shepton Mallet matador

Now the boys in the village all think it's very queer
The way that Jacko drinks wine instead of beer
And they say he's swapped his favourite cider jar
For a bottle of sherry and a thirty-bob guitar

(Repeat Chorus)

Now the pigs and the chickens are digging up the dirt
When Jacko comes waving his old red flannel shirt
And he's always chasing round the old red cow
Cos, he thinks that he's a real bullfighter now

(Repeat Chorus)

On the farm if you hear hoots and howls
It's Jacko playing flamenco with the fowls
And every time he clicks his castanets
Instead of eggs, the hens lay omelettes

(Repeat Chorus)

[Instrumental]

(Repeat Chorus)

Now the farmer's missis went wild with delight
When Jacko serenaded her last night (la la la la la la la la la la la la)
But the farmer stopped him singing Cielito Lindo
With a bucket of summat he threw from an upstairs window

(Repeat Chorus)

La la la la la la la, viva Chew Magna (woo hoo)
La la la la la la la, The Shepton Mallet matador

Track 7   The Charlton Mackrell Jug Band

Now I always planned to make this band, the very finest in the land
So, we had to hold auditions, for to find the best musicians
Some who played they made the grade, some they played like hell
I picked the best in all the West, and here's the personnel
There's Bernard Mace on his old string bass, made from a gurt big packing case
Along with 'ee goes Amos Draper, wizard of the comb and paper
Arnold Slugg, blows the jug, barred from all the locals
And I'm the star on my guitar, harmonical and vocals

What was worse, and made us curse, was finding somewhere to rehearse
Neither of the pubs would wear us, cos it seemed they couldn't bear us
Folks all laughed and called the staff, we took it on the chin
We was always fond of the old duck pond, till they threw us in
Then Bernard Mace he sailed through space, followed by his homemade bass
Arnold Draper he did try to keep his roll of paper dry
Arnold Slugg went glug glug glug, and very quickly sank
And my gumboots were full of newts when I reached the other bank

Now we hadn't been barred from the old churchyard, there one night we practised hard
Every man was full of cider, doing his best with CC Ryder
Figure in white then come in sight, I thought we'd wake the dead
But Parson Stert in his nightshirt said we'd waked 'ee instead
Then Bernard Mace with his old string bass, said we better had leave this place
Off he blew with Amos Draper, trailing yards of toilet paper
Arnold Slugg with his two-gallon jug, for speed was not designed
I ran like a fox with the parson's boxer followed I close behind

Then one day old Farmer Gray, come to me and this did say
All his beasts like music playing, and would we kindly serenade 'em
Off we sped to the old cowshed, the cows they did adore us
They wagged their tails and banged their pails and joined in every chorus
Then Bernard mace and the old string bass, a gurt big Jersey licked his face
Another got attached to Amos Draper, chewed up half his roll of paper
Filled the jug of Arnold Slugg, is kindness to acknowledge
And I got a kiss from a pretty young miss in the Agricultural College

So, in one week quite uniquely, topped the charts in the Farmer's Weekly
Play your cows our rhythm and blues you'll get three times more milk than usual
We've got plans and lots of fans, no rivals do we fear
Cos every cow knows Mama don't allow no jug band music in here
Now Bernard Mace has a shirt of lace, and his hair completely hides his face
So, does that of Amos Draper, getting between his comb and paper
Arnold Slugg has an empty jug, broke our Mother's hearts
We look so queer in all this gear, since we hit the charts


Track 8    Ferry To Glastonbury

(Chorus)
There aint no ferry to Glastonbury
But that don't bother me
Though I'm tired and weary there's a little dearie
Waiting there for me

Working all day in the meadow
Starting with the morning dew
The day's been hot, and my old dog Spot
He's feeling weary too

(Repeat Chorus)

Bees in the hedgerows are buzzing
All of the world is in bloom
Sleepy cows just sit and browse
Taking in the day's perfume

[Instrumental]

Golden haze on the river
Dust and heat all the way
But I can think of that long cool drink
Before I hit the hay

(Repeat Chorus)

Afternoon shadows grow longer
Trees shade the evening sun
And I'm content of a day well spent
Another job well done

(Repeat Chorus)

That don't bother me


Track 9    Bridgwater Town

When I was a boy, just barely fourteen
My life belonged to the sea
And for fifty long years I served out my time
My life it never was free, me boys
No, my life it never was free

(Chorus)
So, blow you is blow, and blow you is west
Carry me over the sea
Cos, I'm coming back to Bridgwater town
Back in the Westcountry, me boys
I'm coming back to the Westcountry

Now many's the time that I still can recall
Our ship torn apart by the storm
And hearts they beat fast, we were cold and alone
And we prayed for a safe journey home, me boys
Yes, we prayed for a safe journey home

(Repeat Chorus)

We followed the sun that sank in the West
On the trade wind our fortune was found
From old Kingston Town, to the edge of the world
Good drink and bad women abound, me boys
Good drink and bad women abound

(Repeat Chorus)

Well I've seen all the sights that one man can see
And my heart's full content I do roam
But in the still of the night when four bells were rung
I'd dream of my Bridgwater home, me boys
Yes, I'd dream of my Bridgwater home

(Repeat Chorus)

But the life of a tar will make old men look young
It's a fact that one day you must rest
So as once I did plough through the seas of the world
I'll plough the green hills of the West, me boys
I'll plough the green hills of the West

(Repeat Chorus x 2)

Me boys
I'm coming back to the Westcountry, me boys
I'm coming back to the Westcountry


Track 10    Rock Around The A38

Way down Taunton on the A38
Just around the corner there's a five-bar gate
Over in the field stands old Farmer Joe
Cranking up his tractor trying to make him go
No one there around, to lend a helping hand
It's hard to make a living when you're working on the land
Go, go, let the cider flow

Farmer's son in pigsty mixing up the swill
Bubblin' and a-steaming 'nuff to make thee ill
The sow she came a-boaring like a hurricane
Rolled him over ‘n’ over ‘n’ over ‘n’ over again
No one there at hand, to give that boy a warning
They couldn't dig him out until the very next morning
Go, go, let the cider flow

Farmer's daughter Mabel rolling in the hay
With the village lads she was the cabaret
Swinging through the rafters in her tight blue jeans
Polo neck all ruffled, bum bursting from the seams
No one need to care, or try to understand
The ups and downs that boys get when they're working on the land
Go, go, let the cider flow, let it go now, yeah

[Instrumental]

Farmer's wife out working picking up the eggs
'Er's getting on, she aint too steady on her legs
Basket in her arms and her apron full
She crossed the field and she got chased by the bull
No one there in sight, to keep that bull away
Now Farmer Joe's got scrambled eggs for breakfast every day
Go, go, let the cider flow
Let it flow now
All right


Track 11    Mevagissey

Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm mm
Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm

The lights of Mevagissey, is the sight that I long to see
To walk the old stone harbour, smell the salt air, and the sea
Those fishing boats all safely moored, seagulls soar above
In that quaint old Cornish village, Mevagissey you're my love

Some folks like big cities, with their hustle, and bright lights
The nightclubs and the restaurants, they say are wondrous sights
Although I'm not a Cornish lad, though I live down, in the West
You can keep your bright light cities, Mevagissey you're the best

Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm mm
Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm

The motorways, and the factories, their chimneys reach the sky
People rushing everywhere, never knowing why
So, I'm glad I've had this chance in life, to take the time and see
You can keep your bright light cities, Mevagissey is just for me

So, if you yearn to leave it all, and I'm sure that you might some day
Remember what I tell you, as you pass along your way
And you'll be glad, that you're alive, these words I say are true
Forget those bright light cities, Mevagissey is just for you

Some folks like big cities, with their hustle, and bright lights
The nightclubs and the restaurants, they say are wondrous sights
Although I'm not a Cornish lad, though I live down, in the West
Forget those bright light cities, Mevagissey you're the best

Yes, you can keep your bright light cities, Mevagissey you're the best



Track 12   Good Ole Somerset

Take me back, to good old Somerset

I still remember when I was a lad
Some times were good and some times were bad
But we all made the most of what little we had down in Somerset
We played around at school, we thought it a game
And even now, I can't write me name
And I'm so glad to be back again in good old Somerset

(Chorus)
When I'm dead, then bury me
In the shade of a cider apple tree
Take me back to good old Somerset
Take me by the village inn
Hear the old folks, the yarns they spin
Take me back to good old Somerset

I took a rifle when I was sixteen
I went to fight for my King and Queen
And the boots I wore well they was never so clean in good old Somerset
At the end of the fighting, I took me a wife
We settled down and tried to make a good life
But all we seemed to find was trouble and strife down in Somerset

(Repeat Chorus)

All the kids are married, the old lady's gone
Just me and the dog, and a pint and a song
And now I'm back, where I’da belong in good old Somerset

(Repeat Chorus x 2)








































Lyrics Kindly transcribed by M.Pelling & E.Bryant,
Verified by Professor Wurzel
.