An homage (and autobiographical update) of the vaudeville star Bert Williams's far superior "Somebody Else Not Me" (1919).

 

I’d gone to Goose Fair with some of my mates

As panic arose in the queues

The punters were scattering all over the shop -

The tiger was on the loose.

“A ten shilling note for its capture”

The Keeper hollered and cried

“What do you say, sonny?” looking at me,

But cautiously I replied,

“It’s a wonderful opportunity

Of that I can’t but agree

But it’s wonderful opportunity

For somebody else, not me”.

 

We made our way to the prizefighter tent

Where the pimp was drumming up trade

“A ten shilling note to fight Wee George”

Now here was some brass to be made.

All of a sudden Wee Georgie appeared

And I felt my courage subside

He stood 6 foot 4 with muscles like balloons;

I cleared my throat and replied,

“It’s a wonderful opportunity

Of that I can’t but agree

But it’s wonderful opportunity

For somebody else, not me”.

 

We visited then the recruiting stall

The Army had set up on site

The Sergeant was waxing so eloquent

“Good Lord, there’s no need to fight.

It’s learning a trade and playing at sport

And waking at 10” he implied,

“A bed of sweet roses for 25 years”.

But nervously I replied,

“It’s a wonderful opportunity

Of that I can’t but agree

But it’s wonderful opportunity

For somebody else, not me”.

 

Now Ethel had worked the Goose Fair week

For 50 odd years on the park

She’s open for business from 10am

But does her best trade in the dark;

My mates were egging me on that day

“Dip your bread in, youth”, one began

“It’s a chance to pop your cherry tonight

And to walk away as a man.

I had her twice last Saturday night;

She’s gorgeous” my mate to me lied;

But I thought of my pecker, the Doctor, the Priest,

My mam, and then I replied

It’s a wonderful opportunity

Of that I can’t but agree

But it’s wonderful opportunity

For somebody else, not me.

 

Then 5 years later I walked down the aisle

Wearing a clean tie and shirt

And found at the end of this solemn trudge

Not a noose waiting there, but Our Gert.

The Priest he was mumbling about ’plighting troth’

And ‘taking Your Gert as a bride’

My legs turned to jelly, my spine turned to mush

As under my breath I replied,

“It’s a wonderful opportunity

Of that I can’t but agree..

But before I could finish up pipes Our Gert

“He says ‘Yes’ – you can take it from me”.