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Green Ginger Wine Lyrics
Oh kiss me Maggie & take me home,
For I sure dinnae feel like dyin' alone,
Gawn geez a shot, chuck a doggie a bone,
Or a penny for me rattlin' can,
As sure as Christ it's a bitter pill,
But if you won't have me, yer sister will,
I'll cart me arse doon Surry Hills & call her out this evenin',
Go on, go well, ye're no catch o' mine,
Yer clothes in rags, ye reek o' fags & old green ginger wine,
My sisters aye a leezie into the drinkin', dogs & cards,
My poor departed Father couldn't flog her at the yards,
I'm a man o' some renown 'Jack the Lad' about the town,
We'll share a plate of oysters, crack the neck o' Billy Brown,
Sly grog & salty treats, I'll not grant yer wish,
I'm promised to the toll collector boy upon the bridge.
Like good whisky in bad wounds,
Like honey on a toothache, you'll never be mine,
Tho' we can dance, b'Jesus, we'll swing like the razors,
Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine.
Why wait until yer dancin' shoes are scuffed and in the bin?
I'll stitch my holey duds, scrape the whiskers from me chin,
We'll get ye down yer scarlet gown, I'll steal you somethin' blue,
I'd waltz off Millers point before I walk the aisle with you!
Oh I'll sing you 'six ribbons'!
Aye when your 'three sheets'!
Yer drunken, brawlin' caterwaulin' echoes through the streets,
Y'know I'm not yet very old,
Sure it's poison when its cold,
And a dear old southerly belters sure to blow!
For I sure dinnae feel like dyin' alone,
Gawn geez a shot, chuck a doggie a bone,
Or a penny for me rattlin' can,
As sure as Christ it's a bitter pill,
But if you won't have me, yer sister will,
I'll cart me arse doon Surry Hills & call her out this evenin',
Go on, go well, ye're no catch o' mine,
Yer clothes in rags, ye reek o' fags & old green ginger wine,
My sisters aye a leezie into the drinkin', dogs & cards,
My poor departed Father couldn't flog her at the yards,
I'm a man o' some renown 'Jack the Lad' about the town,
We'll share a plate of oysters, crack the neck o' Billy Brown,
Sly grog & salty treats, I'll not grant yer wish,
I'm promised to the toll collector boy upon the bridge.
Like good whisky in bad wounds,
Like honey on a toothache, you'll never be mine,
Tho' we can dance, b'Jesus, we'll swing like the razors,
Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine.
Why wait until yer dancin' shoes are scuffed and in the bin?
I'll stitch my holey duds, scrape the whiskers from me chin,
We'll get ye down yer scarlet gown, I'll steal you somethin' blue,
I'd waltz off Millers point before I walk the aisle with you!
Oh I'll sing you 'six ribbons'!
Aye when your 'three sheets'!
Yer drunken, brawlin' caterwaulin' echoes through the streets,
Y'know I'm not yet very old,
Sure it's poison when its cold,
And a dear old southerly belters sure to blow!
Song Info
Submitted by
moooney On Feb 08, 2014
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The song is a typical working class lover's spat. She's mad because he came home drunk, so she's locked him out of the house.
The references to Kate Leigh & Tilley Devine refer to two rival crime bosses in Australia. Their rival gangs fought with razors (among other things), hence the “swing like the razors” part of the song. The two women physically fought on numerous occasions and their respective gangs conducted pitched battles in Eaton Avenue and Kellet Street, King's Cross in May and August 1929.
The “Sly grog” is an Australian term for an unlicensed hotel, liquor-store or other vendor, sometimes with the added suggestion of selling poor-quality alcoholic beverages. From the time of the First World War to the 1950s Australia had early closing of hotels and pubs serving alcoholic beverages. The term is also used to denote illegal sales in Indigenous areas where alcohol has been banned or restricted. Both Tilley and Devine engaged in illegal alcohol production and sales (bootlegging).