Some of his earlier local songs and recitations, like this one, were published on broadsides, his more popular pieces like John Barleycorn were printed as sheet music, and some appeared in musical anthologies like The Scottish Student’s Songbook. He is responsible for Hey, John Barleycorn, Ten-thousand Miles Away, Down in a Coalmine, Johnny I hardly knew you, Pat works on the Railway, Rock the Cradle, John, They all have a mate but me and Roger Ruff, or A Drop of Good Beer, as well as numerous topical Sheffield songs. Many of his songs are still being sung today in oral tradition and in the folk clubs. This song was written by prolific song writer J B Geoghegan (pronounced Gaygan), originally from Lancashire, but resident in Sheffield by the 1860s. This is a traditional song about Yorkshire, collected in Yorkshire. He’s a volunteer still, but he never goes to drill with the girls up Glossop Road. Where he had to ruminate on his unlucky fate with many other fast young swells,Īnd his wife ran away the very next day, and the close of this little episode, So a lot of the police, ’cos they’d broken the peace, took Brown to the Town Hall cells, Well he was jolly well thrashed and his head got smashed, and the crowd their anger did bestow,Īnd his fine uniform went to blazes in the storm with the girls up Glossop Road. They smashed to smithereens hats, gowns and crinoleens, and then they went to work on Brown.
So to set the matter right the women had a fight and a right old-timer up and down “I’ll tear away your eyes if you come to exercise with the girls up Glossop Road. With the bound of a bear she fastened on his hair, crying as her anger rose, When who should he see but his own Mrs B peeping at the parlour door. Now, this quaint little man had scarcely begun his love tale out for to pour, Then he huddled and pressed, close cuddled and caressed and kisses he gave her a load,Īnd he fell upon his knees just as swoony as you please with the girls up Glossop Road. Where he ordered a drain of draught champagne and a quarter of a cold pork pie Well at length Mr Brown and this girl settled down in a neat little inn close by, Then this sly volunteer gave a wink and a leer, enquiring her name and abode,Īnd he felt as grand as a lord of the land with the girls up Glossop Road. Well he accosted a fair with dark wavy hair, blue boots and a red leather belt,Īnd he smiled and he talked as they onward walked, endeavouring her heart to melt
Of the girls up Glossop Road, of the girls up Glossop Road, So himself he dressed in his regimental best, and proud as a peacock strode,Īdmiring the curls, crinolines and pearls of the girls up Glossop Road. Now Brown was a spark, rather fond of a lark, and a married man though not chaste,Īnd little he cared how his own wife fared if another girl took his taste. With the girls up Glossop Road, with the girls up Glossop Road He was in the Rifle Corps an’ I mustn’t say more to you that listens to me ode.ĭo the thing that’s right all on a Sunday night with the girls up Glossop Road. To a tale I’ll tell of a Hallamshire swell I shall introduce as Brown. I’m just in the vein to sing a little strain so pin your attention down,
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