Jenny WREN Bride

Tune: Bonnie lies over the ocean.

Iíve just come away from the wedding.
And Lord I could laugh till I died,
Iíll never forget the relations I met,
When I married my Jenny Wren Bride.

Married, married , I married my Jenny Wren Bride,
Married, married, I married my Jenny Wren Bride,

Her brother he works in the dockyard,
Her pa owns a mariners store,
And out of their habits, they breed jusí like rabbits,
And own half the cradles on shore.

They asked her old man for a dowry,
He gave me a can of soft soap,
A bundle of waste, some polishing paste
And fifty-four fathoms of rope.

Now the present I got from her sister,
Some postal cards labelled obscene,
While her brother the raper, He sent us some paper,
Marked government service latrine.
(Six packs of Service Latrine)

Her panties are made of pink coral,
Her bra wuz two clams held with clips,
While her suspenders were motor boat fenders,
Hung down from her navel in strips.

Now most of this strange congregation,
Was made of wrens lined up in fours,
While in the back pew, was a generous crew,
Of Portsmouthís favourite whores.

Well now Iím just off to my Honeymoon,
And I donít know what happens tonight,
But Iíve spoke to a few, who declare that they do,
And they swear sheís a bit of all right.

Anon

( VIA: Joe Earl, whom said: I picked it up from somewhere!)