Young Henry Cunningham out Blackburn way he started on hair clipping
He done the barber on himself and gave his hair good ripping
And then not satisfied with that he scalped Mick his small brother
And young boys always will be boys but pity his poor mother.
His father Bill came home from work and he felt very cranky
I've roared my lungs out all day long at my Irish workman Franky
Today has been bad day for me I'm in the mood for sacking
And if he doesn't straighten up next week I'll send that bugger packing.
And Henry what have you done here? you've made your hair look silly
I'll box your ears in so I will as sure as my name is Willy
You are trying my patience Henry lad and you are taking a big gamble
And I would thrash you so I would but I don't have that bramble.
Next morning Bill was in better mood and Henry was forgiven
But he cautioned him the next time lad if to anger brink I'm driven
I'll set upon you so I will and this time I'm not bluffing
And give you what you are looking for and that's a right good cuffing.
But Henry will come right with age and he will grow more clever
And he'll not go botching hair again I bet you he won't ever
And as Bill did say he's just a lad and credit him for trying
But a barber he will never make to say he would I'd be lying.
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