Processional Song

Christmas is over and Twelfth Night is past;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
Our ploughboys and molly will give you a dance;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
We typically dance out at midwinter time;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
But there's no resisting this venue so fine;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
The weather is perfect, the sky is bright blue;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
We bring our good songs and our dances to you;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
We won't eat leftovers from the end of the year;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
So bring us a salad and a microbrewed beer;
Walking the plough on a Monday;
Dance, Molly, dance; dance, Molly, dance;
Walking the plough on a Monday!

Three Drunken Maidens

There were three drunken maidens came from the Isle of Wight.
They drank from Monday morning, nor stopped till Saturday night.
When Saturday night did come, me boys, the wouldn't then go out.
These three drunken maidens -- they pushed the jug about.

Then out comes bouncin' Sally, her cheeks as red as a bloom.
"Move up, my jolly sisters, and give young Sally some room.
"For I'll be your equal before that we go out,"
And these three drunken maidens -- they pushed the jug about.

There's woodcock, concord pheasant; there's partridge and hare.
There's all sorts of dainties, no scarcity was there.
There's forty quarts of beer, me boys, they fairly drunk them out.
These three drunken maidens, -- they pushed the jug about.

But out comes the landlord; he's asking for his pay.
"It's a forty pound bill, me boys, these girls are supposed to pay.
"That's ten pounds apiece, me boys," but still they wouldn't go out.
These three drunken maidens, -- they pushed the jug about.

Oh, where are your feather hats, your mantles rich and fine?
"They've all been swallowed up in a banquet of good wine."
And where are your maidenheads, you ladies frisk and gay?
"We left them in the alehouse; -- we drank them clean away!"

The Unbearable Madness of Molly

We're Mad Molly, we like to be jolly,
But we're feeling just a little bit bad.
So while we're dancing here
And you are standing near
You can watch us go molly mad!

Toora-loora-lie-doh, toora-loora-lie-doh,
Toora-loora-lie-doh, play on the old banjo.

Rum-tiddly, rum-tiddly, toora-lie-doh
Rum-tiddly, rum-tiddly, toora-lay.
Rum-tiddly, rum-tiddly, toora-lie-doh
Play on the old banjo.


(Note: You can sing the "toora loora" part during the sticking chorus. Just don't slow us down -- or speed us up!)

Cape Cod Girls

Cape Cod girls don't have no combs;
Heave away, haul away;
They comb their hair with codfish bones;
Bound away for Australia.

Chorus:
Heave her up, me bully bully boys;
Heave away, haul away;
Heave her up and don't you make a noise;
Bound away for Australia.

Cape Cod kids don't have no sleds;
Heave away, haul away;
They slide down the hill on codfish heads;
Bound away for Australia.

Cape Cod cats don't have no tails;
Heave away, haul away;
They lost them all in the northeast gales;
Bound away for Australia.

Steppin' Out

Stepping out with my molly,
Can't go wrong, 'cause it's so right;
Stepping out with my molly,
The big date will be tonight.

Stepping out with my molly,
Sticks in hand, petticoats a'swirl;
Stepping out with my molly,
Can't wait to see that girl.

(We ask that the audience hum stylishly
during the soft-shoe section.)

The Zanzibar Clap
(to the tune of "This Old Man")

Zanzibar, Zanzibar,
Zanzibar is very far;
You can't get there driving in a car;
it's too far to Zanzibar.

Molly team, on safari,
Headed east in a red Ferrari.
Hope and Crosby didn't use a car
On the Road to Zanzibar.

Woly Mol took White Owls
To Zanzibar wrapped up in towels;
Those White Owls turned out to be cigars
Which we smoked in Zanzibar.

Molly Cow and Molly Buns
Found they had run out of funds.
They got cash by dancing in a bar
And got thrown out of Zanzibar.

Golly Molly on a trolley
Met the sailor Jolly Ollie
He's a pirate and he has a scar;
She's in love in Zanzibar.

Polly Molly heard the call-y,
Ran to talk to Hotta Molly:
"Hey there, Hotta Molly, wanna be a star?
Write bad songs in Zanzibar!"

Jolly Old Sigmund Freud
(adapted from the song of the same name by Anna Russell)

I called my psychotherapist myself to understand,
To find out why I drink so much and dress up like a man.
She sat me on a comfy chair to see what she could find,
And this is what she dredged up from my subconscious mind,
From my subconscious mind.

Chorus:
Hey libido, bats in the belfry,
Hey libido, bats in the belfry,
Hey libido, bats in the belfry,
Jolly old Sigmund Freud,
Jolly old Sigmund Freud.

A seventh grader snubbed me and refused to make amends,
And so it follows naturally that I cannot make friends.
In art class I got second place, destroying all my dreams,
And that is why I suffer now from lowered self-esteem,
Lowered self-esteem.

My thoughts were dark and dangerous, contemplating crime.
She put me on some Prozac; now I'm happy all the time;
And I am glad that I have learned the lesson this has taught:
The reason why my life's a mess is someone else's fault,
Someone else's fault!