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about

Roud Number: V4033
Bodleian Libraries Broadside Ballad Collection: Bod4017
Imprint: Hodges, Printer from I. Pitt's wholesale toy warehouse, 31, Dudley Street, 7 Dials, London between 1846 and 1854

lyrics

The old lady one day she says to me
a thought has occurred in her head
“Just how hard up the young 'uns would be
supposing as how you was dead”
So I put on my best bit of brown
With brickdust my cheeks gave a rub
To the committee I went with a crown
To sign up to the Burial Club

(chorus)
Oooooh is nothing in this life enough?
You can fool some folks in this world sometimes
But you won't fool the Burial Club
Oooh, contempt is all we get from above
You can fool some folks in this world sometimes
But you won't fool the Burial Club.

Then I sent my old woman out one day
As a thought occurred in my head
To the committee and told her to say
As how her poor old husband was dead
In she went and she told them a tale
With chillies her eyes gave a rub
For a blow out jolly with jemmies and ale
At the expense of the Burial Club
(rpt. chorus)


So I served out the soup in good style
To show how genteel I had been
And the old lady showed them a while
How quick she could put away gin
We ate all the gammon whole almost
And after we finished the grub
The old lady proposes a toast
Here's a success to the Burial Club
(rpt. chorus)


We hired a base fiddle and fife
A pair of such good uns to go
But while dancing I noticed my wife
Seemed nuts on a cove she calls Joe
She told me right bang to my head
She wished I'd been choked by the grub
For she'd marry young Joe when I was dead
With the blunt from the Burial Club
(rpt. chorus)


We kept up the dancing all night
Until we could dance to more
And then we was put in a fright
By a precious loud rap at the door
A man in black popped in his head
Like the devil in search of his grub
He said "I've come for soul of the man what is dead
I belong to the Burial Club"
(rpt. chorus)

credits

from Burial Club c​/​w The Ghost of Maria, released December 12, 2022
Lyrics Anon. Additional lyrics by Julian Gaskell, music by Gaskell/Sharpe/Gibson.
Julian Gaskell - vocal, accordion, drums
Cally Gibson - violin, vocal
Thomas Sharpe - banjo, vocal

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Julian Gaskell UK

Described by angry locals as the bastard son of Waits, Strummer, Reinhardt and Rachmaninov, Julian Gaskell’s music over the last 20 years has followed a wayward path of withering agricultural-folk, klezmer accordion, overly-lyrical punk, gypsy-jazz guitar, tangos, waltzes, rhumbas and skiffled-up boogie-woogie piano. ... more

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