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Jez Lowe
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Bother At the Hoppins
There's bother at the Hoppins and there's talk of knuckles and knives,
There's fighting and scrapping to the backing of a juke-box jive,
It's the same thing every year,
Not enough women and too much beer,
There's bother at the Hoppins and the folks are running for their lives.
Them lads on the dodgem cars all trouble and tattoos,
You've really got to watch them if they take a snarl on you
They'll spin you, dunch you just for the crack,
And your two-bob change never did come back,
Make bother at the Hoppins is the last thing you should do
There's laughing and grinning and scream that cut like steel,
There's a waltzer spinning like a drunken man's last reel,
But gangs are gathering out in the dark,
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Relishing the smell of a dodgem spark,
There's bother at the Hoppins in the glare of the ferris wheel.
There's a ride called the comet that can turn you inside out,
It makes the lads all vomit and the girls all scream and shout,
The lass I'm after works in the fish-shop,
A mouth like an actress talking to a bishop,
There's bother at the Hoppins with a kiss a cuddle and a clout.
They say 'Don't go, there's always bother at the Hoppins,
Bother at the Hoppins, it's like the third world war.
But we still go, 'cause there's nothing like the Hoppins,
Nothing like the Hoppins, on the old Town Moor.
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