Someones Pinched My Winkles

The Cockney tribes in Britain were meeting for the games
Held annually, once a year, along the River Thames
The scene was quiet and peaceful, the snow lay on the ground
The Cockneys by their cooking pots were huddled all around
The chief was in his tepee his face all lined with wrinkles
When up the river came the cry
«someone's pinched me winkles!»
Me winkles have been pinched (oobie dooby) me winkles have been pinched
Now some people say it’s a load of old nonsense but a winkle’s got a lot of
vitamin contents
Never win that race tomorrow I’ll be a big disgrace tomorrow
I’ll search the blinking place tomorrow, but tomorrow is too late
Some rotter’s pinched me winkles off me plate
(I turned round and wheeeet, they were gone)
The tears of sheer frustration started trickling down his face, well
He’d set his heart on winning in the gruelling barrow race
Without his final winkle feed his training scheme was shot
He staggered round the camp ground shouting «someone's pinched the lot»
Me winkles have been pinched (oobie dooby) me winkles have been pinched
Beef or carrots or a dash of cucumber
As far as I’m concerned that’s a load of old lumber
I’ll never win the race tomorrow, he’s got me in disgrace tomorrow
He’d better not show his face tomorrow, he’ll end up in a fight
But me I need them winkles here tonight
(now I want 'em, now, not tomorrow or the next day)
They called the wise old medicine man who shuffled up and said
«I'm levying a winkle tax one winkle each per head»
They made a grand collection from every tucker pot
Then stood around, the shells and all, they made me eat the lot
I’ve got me winkles back (oobie dooby) I’ve got me winkles back
Now I know I’ve been grumping and grousing
But I never thought I’d get two or three thousand
I’ll never win that race tomorrow, I can’t go in that race tomorrow
I couldn’t stand the pace tomorrow, I’m much to blinking fat
I’ll never face a winkle after that
Phew — I think I’ll go and try out something new, you know, just to see how it
feels
I think I’ll have a dash at some jellied eels
(Excuse me a minute while I just get this newspaper off this bit of jellied eel
here)
Mmm — that’s lovely;
Here, you with the winkle barrow, «hello»
As far as I’m concerned you can stick your perishing winkles right…
back in the sea
— it's jellied eels for me