(to the tune of The Hole in the Ground with apologies to Myles Rudge and composed by Ted Dicks and Bernard Cribbins)
There I was, a-fillin’ this ‘ole
‘Ole in the ground, so big & sort o’ round it was
And there was I, fillin’ it full
It was flat at the bottom and the sides were steep
When along comes this bloke in a hardhat
Which he lifted and scratched his ‘ead
Woooh, he looked down the ‘ole
Poor demented soul and he said
“Do you mind if I make a suggestion?
Don’t fill there, fill it elsewhere
You’re filling the whole London underground
The holes got a hole, it’s much too long
And you can’t fill a hole with what don’t belong”
I ask, what a liberty, eh?
Nearly bashed him right on the hardhat
Well, there was I, a-stood by me ‘ole
Pouring concrete for all that I’m worth, I was
And there was ‘im, standin’ o’ there
So grand and official with his TFL staff card
So I gave him a look sort of sideways
And I leaned on me shovel and sighed
Woooh, I lit me a fag
And havin’ took a drag I replied
I just couldn’t bear to fill it elsewhere
I’m fillin’ it now ‘cos I don’t want it there
And if you disagree, it doesn’t bother me
That’s the place the ready mix gonna be
Well there we were, discussing this ‘ole
‘Ole in the ground, so big and sort o’ round
It’s not there now, the ground’s all flat
And beneath it is the bloke in the hardhat
And that’s that!
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