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robert patrick weston - little billy's wild woodbines lyrics

[verse 1]
little billy williams found a penny in a garden
one fine summer’s day
and as little billy never had more than a farthin’
he said, “hip+hoo+ray!”
then passing a tobacconist’s where cigarettes were sold
there he beheld some little packets, coloured green and gold
then billy said, “although i’m only six, i’ll be a sport.”
he toddled in that ‘bacco shop and this is what he bought:

[chorus]
five little f+gs in a dainty little packet
five cigarettes that cost one d
five little pains undеrneath his jacket
five wobblеs in his little mary
five little whiffs and in five little jiffs
he was rolling in the tramway lines
wishing he could touch the cable
looking greener than the label
of little billy’s wild woodbines

[verse 2]
when he puffed the first one he said, “this don’t seem a good’un
the next might be all right.”
when he lit the second he said, “wish i’d bought plum pudding
else a paper kite.”
“i never thought the world went round,” he murmered at the third
“but now i’ve seen it dancing i can take my teacher’s word.”
then at the fourth he felt so bad, he hiccup’d with a frown
“grub ain’t so nice a+coming up as when it’s going down.”
[chorus]
five little f+gs in a dainty little packet
five cigarettes that cost one d
five little pains underneath his jacket
five wobbles in his little mary
five little whiffs and in five little jiffs
he was rolling in the tramway lines
sadly saying, “close the shutter”
billy’s dead but do not utter
a word of billy’s wild woodbines

[verse 3]
little billy williams he lay flatter than a flounder
full of misery
suddenly along the road came p. c. binns, the bounder
“what’s up here?” said he
then lighting up his bulls+eye, it disclosed the shocking fact
that billy had been smoking right against the latest act
he picked up all the evidence, those half+smoked woodbines four
and scowled as little billy said, “please sir, i’ve got one more.”

[chorus]
one little f+g in a dainty little packet
one cigarette that cost one d
one little pain underneath his jacket
one wobble in his little mary
one little whiff and in one little jiff
while he lay upon the tramway line
poor little billy felt like dying
and that policeman, he was crying
but that copper pinched his last woodbine

- robert patrick weston lyrics

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