MY AUNTY GLADIOLA
©Trev Teasdel Middlesbrough Feb 1982


Chorus
Oh my Aunty Gladiola never played the Viola
She sang in a choir in the strangest attire.
Apparently saintly and prim
With a secret liking for sin.


At school she was never in the teacher’s good books
She learnt the three ‘s’es always pushing her luck.
Always skiving, scrumping and screwing.
They said it would lead to her ruin.


Oh my Aunty Gladiola bit the heads of live rabbits
and had in addition lots of other bad habits.
They called her the angel from hell
with her Swastika’s, leathers and smell.


Chorus.


Oh my aunty Gladiola had a friend she called Lola
who came round everyday with another friend Faye.
It was rumoured they had it away.
in a manner delightful and gay.


The neighbours took exception to this activity
They called it an outrage, a crime and a pity.
But she just did what she always did.
Stuck up her fingers just like a kid.


Instrumental break


One day they burst in and shaved her all over
after hearing what she did with a dog called Rover.
They battered and bruised her so bad.
Just like a a dog that’s gone mad.


My Aunty Gladiola she married a man
who was handsome and wealthy and wise with a tan
but after the first night, all night,
he was looking so white, alight.


My aunty Gladiola, she put on some weight
and invited the vicar round for some tea and some cake
But that wasn’t all that he got – oh no!
When the dog in his collar got hot.