Old Custard Jack

from by Christopher Willatt

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lyrics

Old Custard Jack
Named after the colour of his slacks
Plays pat ball with the rats down in Leith

All sodden are his shoes
Two-tone brogues that are too loose
The sole flaps and gathers grit in its teeth

His belt stoops and dangles
Where once before it would have strangled
A gut fed on goose and terrine

Oh Old Custard Jack
Named after the colour of his slacks
Plays pat ball with the rats down in Leith

Well he went to the preacher but there's nothing he could do
His three wives and nine children, well they told him he was through

Old Custard Jack
Was a baker and a crook
He made the finest cakes and eclairs and macaroons

In the late afternoons
As the Sun bows to the moon
His after hours concoctions would commence

It the dark parts of the city
He'd lure the needy and the gritty
Dazed and drawn by his pastry perfume

And awful crimes they'd commit
Just for Jack's pattiserie hit
They'd bring him silver and diamonds and jewels

Well he went to the preacher but there's nothing he could do
His three wives and nine children, well they told him he was through

More and more became hooked
And all throughout town they did look
Till they found his house out in Clermiston drive

They tied up child number 10
Oh he was never seen again
All they wanted was Jack's secret recipe

But Jack would not oblige
Despite his little son's cries
And the horror of his whole family

So now he lies out on his own
With his old shoes and his toothless comb
Playing pat ball with the rats down in Leith

credits

from Hollybush Tapes, released February 11, 2014

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