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The writing of Tipperary / It's a long way to Tipperary

Lyrics

King Edward the Seventh,
who some called The Peace Maker, died back in nineteen-and-ten
He was buried at Windsor and in the
procession rode the noblest and highest of men
There were nine crowned kings and thirty
proud princes, leaders of many's the land
And old 'Kaiser Bill' rode next to King
George, with his Field Marshall's baton in hand
Crippen was caught that very same year Haley's Comet flashed by
And the first of the labour exchanges
was opened, the year the old king died

The Sidney Street siege brought
nineteen-eleven, when anarchy died in the flames
In London, in June,
King George and his queen played the coronation game
"A place in the sun ",
said The Kaiser in Hamburg, launching his new battle ships
King George made India,
Ireland and Wales, places for right royal trips
Titanic was launched on the day of The
Derby, London's last horsebus was shelved
The suffragettes marched,
demanding their rights, then in came nineteen-and-twelve

Lyrics continue below...

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Jack Judge went down to West
Bromwich town, to welcome a brand new year
He went to a pub,
to have a little sup, 'cause he liked his pint of beer
When he'd had a drink he started to
sing and he raised his voice on high
My name's Jack Judge, I'll write you a song, from Oldbury town come I

Now a Birmingham man was standing near and he heard what Jack did say
"A pound to a penny",
he says to Jack, "you can't write a song in a day"
Jack just laughed, sang another song and he says, "I'll take you on
This afternoon I'll write you a song
and I'll sing it 'fore the day is done"

Jack laughed again, sang another song, drank another pint of beer
Then he caught a train to Stalybridge,
where that night he was due to appear
And the very first day of nineteen-twelve, old Jack Judge won his bet
And the song he made and he sang that day, we never will forget

In March nineteen-twelve brave Scott and
his comrades died while the snow storm roared
And later that year the good
General Booth, finally laid down his sword
There were riots in Ireland concerning
home rule, Mrs Pankhurst was in prison again
And Wilbur Wright died,
the first of the fliers, as the Royal Flying Corps was named
Titanic went down in the spring of that
year, taking one thousand, five hundred lives
And the Balkan states blazed from border to
border, as death began sharpening his knives

Of the nineteen-ten monarchs who mourned for
King Edward, in nineteen-thirteen few survived
Though some of them lived to a peaceful
old age, assassins took many's the life
Death came calmly to China and
Sweden, but elsewhere the murderer's hand
Struck The Pasha of Turkey,
The King of the Greeks, while Spain pursued death's plan
The armies of Europe paraded and
postured, the stock-pile of weapons increased
At the Hague,
as if in grim desperation, they opened The Palace of Peace

In nineteen-fourteen,
with more suffragettes marching, the Arch-Duke of Austria was slain
In less than two months all Europe
was marching, death was in business again
Many's the young man,
from many's the family, willingly gave of his all
They died in the millions for
dubious victory, answering Kitchener's call
But as they marched off to the trains and
the troop ships, they sang as they hurried along
And the words echo back from the
graveyards of Flanders, singing old Jack Judges song

"'It's A Long Way To Tipperary"'

It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go
It's a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know
Good-bye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester square
It's a long, long, way to Tipperary, but my heart lies there

It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to go
It's a long way to Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know
Good-bye Piccadilly, farewell Leicester square
It's a long, long, way to Tipperary, but my heart lies there
It's a long, long, way to Tipperary, but my heart lies there

Writer(s): bill caddick

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