The Ball of Kirriemuir 

The Ball of Kirriemuir is infamous, and its story is known far and wide. The original ballad was possibly based on an earlier 18th century song, but it has been changed so much since it was first sung that its Scots language has been very diluted.

The Ball of Kirriemuir 

Four and twenty virgins
Came down from Inverness
And when the ball was over
There were four and twenty less

CHORUS

Singing, balls to your partner
Arse against the wall
If you've never been fucked on Saturday night
You'll never get fucked at all

Four and twenty prostitutes
Came up from Glockamore
And only one went home that night
And she was double-bore

CHORUS

The village plumber he was there
He felt an awful fool
He'd come eleven leagues or more
And forgot to bring his tool

CHORUS

Sandy McPherson he came along
It was a bloody shame
He fucked a lassie forty times
And wouldna take her haim

Mrs. O'Malley she was there
She had the crowd in fits
A-jumping off the mantelpiece
And landing on her tits

The minister's wife was at the ball
A-sitting in the front
A wreath of flowers 'round her arse
A carrot up her cunt

John McGowan, the father
Was very surprised to see
Four and twenty maidenheads
A-hanging from the tree

Father O'Flannigan he was there
And in the corner he sat
Amusing himself by abusing himself
And catching it in his hat

Mr. MacFudge the parson
He went among the weemen
He took poor Nellie on his knee
And filled her full o' semen

Puir wee Nellie she found out
To her great consternation
That she by some strange means or other
Was increasing his congregation

The Parson's daughter she was there
The cunning little runt
With poison ivy up her arse
And thistle up her cunt

Bayard Stockton he was there
Drunk beyond a doubt
He tried to stuff the parson's wife
But couldna get the root

The minister's scivvy, she was there
She was all dressed in blue
They tied her to the barn door
An' bulled her like a coo

The Vicar's wife she was there
A-sitting by the fire
Knitting rubber Johnnies
Out of India rubber tire

The undertaker, he went there
Dressed in a lime black shroud
Swinging on the chandelier
And pissing on the crowd

The Vicar's wife she drank beer
Back up against the wall
Put your money on the table boys
I'm fit to do ye all

The Vicar and his lovely wife
Were having lots of fun
The Parson had his finger
Up another lady's bum

First lady forward
Second lady back
Third lady's finger
Up the fourth lady's crack

The bride was in the kitchen
Explaining to the groom
The vagina not the rectum
Is the entrance to the womb

The groom was in the parlor
Explaining to his bride
The penis not the scrotum
Is the part that goes inside

Mick McMudock when he got there
His prick was long and high
But when he fucked her forty times
He was fucking mighty dry

McTavish, oh yes, he was there
His prick was long and broad
And when he fucked the furrier's wife
She had to be rebored

Jock McVenning he was there
A looking for a fuck
But every bitch was occupied
And he was out of luck

McCardew-Roberts he was there
His dick was all alert
But when half the night was done
'Twas dangling in the dirt

Lindsay Bedogni he was there
And he was in despair
He couldna get his dick
Through the tangles in his hair

Dino had a even stroke
His skill was much admired
He gratified one cunt at a time
Until his skill expired

One village idiot he was there
Sitting on a pole
He pulled his foreskin o'er his head
And whistled through the hole

The horny idiot he was there
A-leaning on the gate
He couldna find a cunt
So he had to masterbate

The groom by now was excited
And racing through the halls
He was pullin' on his prick
And showin off his balls

The doctor's wife, oh, she was there
She wasn't very weel
For she had to make her water
In the midst of ev'ry reel

The butcher's wife, oh, she was there
She also wasn't weel
For she had to go and piddle
After ev'ry little feel

Another idiot he was there
He wasn't such a fool
He pulled his foreskin over his head
And whistled throught his tool

The village magician he was there
Doing his favorite trick
Pulling his foreskin over his head
And vanishing up his prick

The village cripple he was there
He wasn't up too much
He lined them up against the wall
And shagged them with his crutch

The village bobby he was here
He'd put on fancy socks
He fucked a lassie forty times
And found she had the pox

The village smithy he was there
Sitting by the fire
Doing abortions by the score
With a red-hot piece of wire

The Church Precentor he was there
He came in trews of tartan
They didna like the colour
For they said 'twas done by fartin'

The blacksmith's brother he was there
A mighty man was he
He lined them up against the wall
And fucked them three by three

Now farmer Giles he was there
His sickle in his hand
And when he swung the blade around
He circumcized the band

The farmer's son, oh, he was there
And he was in the byre
Introducin' masturbation
With an Indian rubber tire

The King was in the counting house
A-countin' out his wealth
The Queen was in the parlour
A-diddlin' with herself

The Queen was in the parlour
A-eating bread and honey
The King was in the chambermaid
An' she was in the money

The King's magician, he was there
Playing his favourite trick
He pulled his foreskin over his head
And vanished up his prick

Then he did another
It really was a farce
He stuck his head between his legs
And vanished up his arse

Giles he played a dirty trick
We cannot let it pass
He showed this lass his mighty prick
Then shoved it up her arse

Farmer Brown he was there
A' jumping on his hat
For half an acre of his corn
Was fairly fucking flat

Jock MacGregor he was there
In a new Ford truck
They asked him if he'd have a dram
But he said he'd rather fuck

PC O'Malley he was there
The pride of all the force
They found him in the stable
Wanking off his horse

The chimney sweep he was there
They had to throw him out
For every time he passed his wind
The room was filled with soot

Farmer Johnson, he was there
And he just cursed an' spat
For forty acres of his oats
Were fucked completely flat

The village builder he was there
He brought his bag of tricks
He poured cement in all the holes
And blunted all the pricks

Little Jimmy he was there
The leader of the choir
He hit the balls of all the boys
To make their voices higher

Little Tommy he was there
He was only eight
He was too small for the women
So he had to masturbate

The village doctor he was there
He had his bag of tricks
And in between the dances
He was sterilising pricks

The doctor's daughter she was there
She went to gather sticks
She couldna find a blade of grass
For cunts and standing dicks

The village postman he was there
The poor man had the pox
He couldna fuck the lassies
So he fucked the letter box

The village butcher he was there
His cleaver in his hand
And every time he turned around
He circumcised the band

The village economist he was there
His penis in his hand
Waiting for the time to come
When supply would meet demand

The tax collector he was there
Collecting all his tax
The woman who couldna pay
Were paying on their backs

The village lawyer he was there
Collecting all his fees
The men who couldna pay
Were paying on their knees

The village baker she was there
All covered up in dough
Men were kneading her up and down
And slippin' it in her ho'

The village witch she was there
In an upstairs' room
The men were ignoring her
So she was riding on her broom

The local herder he was there
And he began to weep
All these willing ladies
And not a single sheep

The village decorator he was there
Interiors he likes to design
Men were leery of him
For he'd fuck them from behind

The village nurse she was there
Checking all the cocks
She said of all these blisters
It isn't chicken pox

The local harlot she was there
A lay'in on the floor
And every time she spread her legs
The vacuum shut the door

The village leper he was there
Sitting on a log
Pealing off his foreskin
And feeding it to the dog

The village doctor he was there
Examining all the men
Having them turn their heads
and grabbing all he can

The village Prince he was there
With his sword in hand
Every time he turned around
He circumcised the band

The groom was all excited
And racing 'round the halls
A-stumblin' on his pecker
And tripping o'er his balls

The elders of the church
Who were far to old to fuck
All sat around the table
Were they had a circle jerk

There was fucking in the haystacks
Fucking in the ricks
You couldna hear the music
For the swishing of the pricks

A couple of Squaddies they were there
A' looking for a fuck
But all the cunts were occupied
And they were out of luck

They were fucking in the parlor
They were fucking in the grass
And all that you could see were waves
Of undulating arse

There was fucking on the couches
There was fucking in the cots
And lying up against the wall
Were rows of grinning cunts

There was fucking in the hallways
There was fucking in the ricks
Your couldna hear the music
For the swishing of the pricks

There was fucking in the kitchen
And fucking in the halls
The most predominate sound
Was the clanging of the balls

They were fucking in the ante-room
And fucking on the stairs
You couldna see the carpet
For the cunts and curly hairs

There was fucking in the cornfield
Fucking in the oats
Most were doing lassies
But ______ was doing the goats
(insert a name of your choice)

Jockie Stewart did his fucking
Right upon the moor
It was, he thought, much better
Than fucking on the floor

There was fucking on the highways
And fucking in the lanes
You couldna hear the music
For the rattling of the panes

And when the ball was over
Everyone confessed
They all enjoyed the dancing
But the fucking was the best

And so the ball was over
They all went home to rest
And the music has been exquisite
But the fucking was the best

 

(unsure as to the completeness of this version.  There are many versions and not all match)

 

Regarding The Ball of Kirriemuir - 


The controversy of 1996-97 over the sources of T.S. Eliot's bawdy verses, then newly published, ended on an inconclusive note. The central question, opened first by readers of the Guardian and carried on by various critics and correspondents in the TLS and elsewhere, is whether Eliot was indeed the author of a poem called "Fragments," or whether Eliot had merely transcribed a venerable ballad, identified by some as "The Ball of Kirriemuir" and by others as "The Jolly Tinker" or "The Highland Tinker."  Read further...

You merely have to read the words to know that whoever wrote this, or added to it, had that wonderful "out there" bawdy attitude we miss today.  No, not the porn on the world wide web.  

But the sheer audacity of some of these old songs and rugby songs to use graphic sexual statements and cagey innuendo, gains respect by many of us to whom these old and very cool songs means something.

Similar in sentiment to the Sex Pistol's - 

Friggin' In The Riggin'

It was on the good ship venus
By christ, ya shoulda seen us
The figurehead was a whore in bed
And the mast, a mammoth penis

The captain of this lugger
He was a dirty bugger
He wasn’t fit to shovel shit
From one place to another

Chorus:
Friggin’ in the riggin’
Friggin’ in the riggin’
Friggin’ in the riggin’
There was fuck all else to do


The captains name was morgan
By christ, he was a gorgon
Ten times a day he’d stop and play
With his fuckin’ organ

The first mate’s name was cooper
By christ he was a trooper.
He jerked and jerked until he worked
Himself into a stupor

Chorus

The second mate was andy
By christ, he had a dandy
Till they crushed his cock on a jagged rock
For cumming in the brandy

The cabin boy was flipper
He was a fuckin’ n--ger
He stuffed his ass with broken glass
And circumcised the skipper

Chorus

The captain’s wife was mabel
To fuck she was not able
So the dirty shits, they nailed her tits
Across the barroom table

The captain had a daughter
Who fell in deep sea water
And by her squeals we knew the eels
Had found ’er sexual quarters

Repeat chorus to fade

Mind you, not near as long, or as much fun, but nonetheless a bawdy song by all rights.  Leave it to SP to imitate the bawdiest of lyrics.

When it comes to rude lyrics, rugby songs both old and new, take the cake...or should that be cock?

For example - 

Shag A Wallaby

CHORUS: Bestiality's best boys, bestiality's best.
Shag a wallaby!
Bestiality's best boys, bestiality's best.
Shag a wallaby!

Blow your rocks in an ox boys, blow your rocks in an ox.
Shag a wallaby!
Blow your rocks in an ox boys, blow your rocks in an ox.
Shag a wallaby!

In the spunk of a skunk boys, in the spunk of a skunk.
Shag a wallaby!
In the spunk of a skunk boys, in the spunk of a skunk.
Shag a wallaby!

In the rear of a deer boys, in the rear of a deer.
Shag a wallaby!
In the rear of a deer boys, in the rear of a deer.
Shag a wallaby!

Lick the twat of a cat boys, lick the twat of a cat.
Shag a wallaby!
Lick the twat of a cat boys, lick the twat of a cat.
Shag a wallaby!

In the hole of a vole boys, in the hole of a vole.
Shag a wallaby!
In the hole of a vole boys, in the hole of a vole.
Shag a wallaby!

Have a fuck with a duck boys, have a fuck with a duck.
Shag a wallaby!
Have a fuck with a duck boys, have a fuck with a duck.
Shag a wallaby!

Shoot your load in a toad boys, shoot your load in a toad.
Shag a wallaby!
Shoot your load in a toad boys, shoot your load in a toad.
Shag a wallaby!

 

Rude rugby songs have even ruffled some feathers in the sports world, with nasty lyrics and sexual hints.  Take for example this Sept. '04 article from the BBC - 

The lyrics include:

"They come from the east / They come from the west / They come from afar to face the best / But you should see the Ospreys crest / Don't attack the Ospreys nest

They even comes down from the Gwent / Well, half of them - the others went / Okey Cokey comes to town / Flashing all his cash around / He puts it in he takes it out / He likes to wave his wad about / When the tragic dragon puffs / Old Okey says he's had enough

Sometimes they comes from Cardiff / We're not too convinced / A boss that's dressed like Larry Grayson / And a team that likes to mince / I said: "Peter, you'll have such a fright / Dressed like that on bonfire night" / He stood there looking so surprised / 'Cos someone's eaten all his pies!

Sometimes they comes down from the west / In their shell suits and their vest / They're all dressed like Rodney Trotter They're a bunch of Stradey squatters / They won't win a single thing / According to predictions / When the union man calls for the rent / They're up for eviction. "

Read the rest of the story  - click here

 

There are lots of old and older songs in our past, with bawdy and downright disgusting lyrics.  Scrolls will continue to seek these lyrics out and post them here, as updates to this article.  

But for now....read The Ball of Kirriemuir and see if you can get all the way through  ;)

 

 

 

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