(To be sung, with due solemnity, to the tune of
'Wrap Me Up in my Tarpaulin Jacket')

In a hovel an old man lay dying
And his friends stood around his bedside.
And he looked into each of their faces,
And these were the sad words he cried:

If you love me, my friends and my neighbours,
Just grant me this one last request;
Please bury my body in Brummagem,
For Brum is the place I love best.

O the hours that I spent in my childhood
Through many a long summer day,
Picking flowers in the woods around Neachells,
Tickling trout in the sweet River Rea.


I remember the old bridge at Salford
Where we bathed in the cool River Tame,
And that dear little cottage in Handsworth
Where a bride and her young bridegroom came.


O 'twas there that we brought up our children
'They numbered in all some fifteen;
But alas ! my dear Mortha has left me,
And the kids are all in Winson Green.


When the old man had died, and his neighbours
Had abandoned the search for the will,
His soul up to Heaven was carried.
(Yer know, it's next door ter Sparkhill).

Chorus - for the last time, please God.