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Ivor (Tune: The Girl I Left Behind Me) Learned from the singing of Ewan MacColl Oh, me name is Mike, or Mick, if you like And me second name is O'Reilly; And I'm doing me best with a two-year stretch On account of a judge named Smiley. I know all the nobs of the flash-boys mobs, I'm an old sky-rocket diver; But these were mugs of Wormwood-Scrubbs, Compared with a bloke named Ivor. He'd a juicy smile and a slick profile And hair like a Soho waiter. This ancient boy was the pride and joy Of the smart London the-ater. This West-End star had a Rolls-Royce car, And Jack Nowles was his driver And the dames would sigh when this car flashed by For they knew that it carried Ivor. Now, Ivor saw that the worst of the war Was the petrol-rationing system So he said to Nowles, "We must keep the Rolls And think of a plan to twist 'em." This three-star hit, he was doing his bit For the democratic nations, So he fixed up a scheme with a gallery queen To evade the regulations. Well, it worked O.K. until one day The cops asked him some questions. And they yanked our sport, under police escort To the London, Bow Street sessions. His character there was stripped as bare As the dame they called Godiva, And the judge, with a nod, said, "A month in quod Will help to chasten Ivor." So...they've fixed up a cell like a posh hotel For this scribe of tony drama. And he strolls through the grounds in a dressing gown And a pair of silk pajamas. He lives like a duke and he has his own cook, And he don't eat skilly neither, For the governor of this lousy stir Has a soft spot for old Ivor. So, if you're inclined to turn to crime, Just listen to my sons, son, Just become a star with a Rolls-Royce car And then you can't go wrong, son. Who cares if a lag does a 10-years drag If that lad ain't got a stiver, For you surely know any mug with dough Can do as well as Ivor. Recorded on Bad Lads and Hard Cases, MacColl, Riverside LP 1957 AJS
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