Jacko The Rat Catcher

JACKO THE RAT CATCHER                         [sung in cockney accent]

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market,

I never had a Mum, never had a Dad, don't even have a brutherr!

My sister sailed away, in a merchant ship, go-ing Down Underrrrr,

She took a loaf of bread, cos she lost her head, paid for her stupid hungerrr,

Now she's grafting hard with convicts for friends, waltzing with Mat-ildaaa!

I find myself alone, I dunno what to do, just have to be a rat catcherrrr!

Victor is my guide, he trained me up, and showed me his old rat Snatchaaa,

His whiskers are grey, he's bigger than a cat, and he likes to stare right atchaa!

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market,      [chorus]

I'm fed up with their fleas, and feeding them cheese!

I don't even have a frienndd!

Victor showed me how, to make a little dough, all you gotta do is lure 'em,

The bakers want 'em out, the granary's up the spout, they're overrun with vermin!

Victor sends me in, plastered to the chin, covered with rud-dy oil,

They never stand a chance, the aniseed's got them tranced, it leads them a mer-ry dance!

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market,        [chorus]

Rodents are my game, it's such a shame,

The dog pit waits for themmmm!

Victor's very firm, he told me what to learn, he offered me seventy thuurrtyy

That's not very fair, but I won't despair, cos he is my Maa-sterrrr!

I'm learning on the job, don't have to steal and rob, respected by all my pe-errss,

They look at me, with my furry friends, and wish they had myyyy job!

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market,      [chorus]

Snatcha's gotta a cold, he sneezed in my face!

And poor Vic's had a bad tuurrrnnn.

I found him on the ground, face turned down, looking very blu-ue,

Arsenic in his pocket, with his silver locket, he's foolishly poisoned him-self!

He thought it was the sugar, that Snatcha loved, but he doesn't know right from le-efft,

Two pockets not the same, one spells death, and I guess he's copped it naaa!

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market, [chorus]

Snatcha's always fed, straight from the lips, of his blessed ma-sterrrr,

But neither will any-morrreee!

Things turned bad, gone from bad to worse, no longer a real rat catcherrr,

Picking pockets is a sport, that I've now been taught, pays for bread and worterrrr!

Victor rests in peace, Snatcha at his side, the angels now their pro-tectorrrs,

I start again, on this hamster-wheel, life goes round and round!

I'm just another kid sleeping on the street, down ole Billingsgate market, [chorus]

I never had a Mum, never had a Dad, don't even have a brutherr!

But tomorrow may bring a [pause] FRIIEENNNDDD!