Polly On The Floor

Polly On The Floor

This ballad about a parrot with a loose tongue, lesbian lovers and a jealous Lord is one of the finest ever to come from the Weasenham St. Peter area.

Polly On The Floor appears on Sid's album East Side Story

Lord Weasenham-St-Peter has gone to a far counteree,

Leaving behind his gay Lad-ee,

But he's left her under the watchful eye

Of his faithful parrot in the window high.

And while Lord Weasenham-St-Peter sailéd the sea,

This gay lady longéd for company.

Till a handsome chambermaid she engagéd

Who served her mistress in and out of bed.

Said the Lady to the parrot; "If your tongue you will hold,

You shall have the usual cage of gold;

Keep your beak shut 'bout the maid and me,

Or you'll very, very soon an ex-parrot be!"

When Lord Weasenham-St-Peter caméd home from that far counteree,

With wondrous goods, all of duty free;

Thus to his lady did he speak;

"Tell me why are you holding the parrot's beak?"

"Now tell me Polly, while I cross-eyéd the sea,

Was my gay Lady true to me?"

"Oh yes, yes I was", said Lady Polly,

"Just you ask the parrot if you don't believe me."

"Then speak now bird, be not taciturn,

And an emerald mirror you shall earn".

So it told him of the maid and the gay Ladee

Adding "That's not natural if you ask me".

"Oh did you have her in my Hall,

Where first we kisséd and playéd with the ball;

Oh did you have her in our bed,

Where first I took your maidenhead?"

"Oh yes I had her in your hall,

On your floor and against your wall,

Dangling from your chandelier, and in our bed;

But tell me what makes you think you took my maidenhead?"

Now Lord Weasenham-St-Peter pulléd out his sword so quick,

And through his own broken heart drove it.

And with his dying words he did bequeath;

To his faithful parrot all his lands and money.

Lady Polly cried "Fetch me a club, a gun, a sword,

That I may slay this meddling bird,

And as from its perch the parrot keeled,

Stunnéd, shot and stabbéd, these last words it squeeled;

"Oh come all you parrots, and mynah birds,

Think before you choose your words,

For gold and jewels I never did wish,

All I wanted was a bell and a cuttle fish.

So if long life you would enjoy,

If I were you I'd stick to "Who's a pretty boy?".