MR.B THE GENTLEMAN RHYMER


Straight Out Of Surrey Lyrics

(Spoken) You are about to witness the extent of my cricket knowledge

Straight out of Surrey, a gentleman rhymer named Mr. B Friendly with chaps with an air of mystery Were I poised to be sad, I've got some more shag Squeeze it out the pipe and declare it is a voice brag It'd be super if you dined with me The constabulary popped in for a swifty Doff my hat at a passer when I'm going out Grecian Two Thousand on my 'stache seems to be growing out Please don't ramble, try to act humble You embarrass yourself when you bumble Going on about your mother like that. With a hat that's jaunty angled and The shag is so smooth I've got a chair by the fire so I shan't move

Talk of murder, that's so tawdry I have a crime record like Charles Hawtrey A good Duncan Fearnley is the tool My dear boy, you bowl like a fool I'll take you to The Oval maybe, I've a seat in the box daily, Or weekly, monthly, yearly I'm on hand to observe Mike Brearley Bat them down when we play the MCC But you don't dare chuck at me For when I'm at the crease It'll be a duck I'll keep bowling my arm straight I'll never chuck You'll be out third ball in a hurry And when I'm with the bat, dear boy I'm batting straight out for Surrey

(Surrey, Surrey, Surrey)

Straight outta Surrey Straight outta Surrey

(Now Mr. B) Yes? (Tell 'em where you're from)

Straight out of Surrey, I attack the ball with vigor The force I hit, yes my score gets bigger I'm a batsman, dear boy, and you know this I've knocked it on the scoreboard to show this I don't really mind if you don't rate these chaps For their country, they've got a hundred caps It's like burglary, our definition of batting With a legal straight arm, I'll send you packing I'll whack another boundary in a minute I find a gap in the outfield and go and fill it So if you're on a deck chair in the front row You best watch yourself because Over they go

You might get rather miffed, Which of course you're entitled to I'll stroll over there in my whites and frighten you But when a jolly Hottentot from the seats Throws the ball back in bits I'll charm her with wits And with her blouse signed she'll leave ecstatic (Oh, Mr B, you're so charismatic!) Not the right hand, I'm the hand itself Every time I pull a Duncan Fearnley off the shelf Linseed oil is maximum and that's the law Don't bowl me a googly, it's such a bore 'Cause I'm a ruddy bloody villain The definition is clear You're the witness of a grilling That's taking place before a gruel A lapsang souchon and a slice of Lanark Blue Yes, you may give me a little lip But a sledger like you Gets hit down the bowling strip Like Dennis Compton (Compton, Compton, Compton)

Straight outta Surrey Straight outta Surrey

(Oh Mr. B)

Surrey Surrey Surrey

(Now Mr. B)

Straight outta Surrey Straight out of Surrey

(Now Mr. B)

Straight outta Surrey Straight outta Surrey

(Now Mr. B)

Yes?

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