The Hair of the Widow of Bridlington

She was a widow in Bridlington
She was, was the widow of Brid
Small and bonny at forty-two
With eyes of very unsettling blue
And what she thought she ought to do
She did, she did, she did
Whatever she thought she ought to do
She did, did the widow of Brid

My only darling's dead, he is, and all my children grown
The house has emptied, all the love-birds flown
In place of widow's weeds I'll let my coal black hair grow long
As glossy as a blackbird's wing, as cocky as his song

She found that she could please herself
She could, could the widow of Brid
Swim in the sea when she felt hot
Stay in bed when she did not
And she began to laugh a lot
She did, she did, she did
To sing and dance and laugh a lot
She did, did the widow of Brid

And sometimes she would drop the shopping, leave the bed unmade
And sit till evening on the esplanade
She'd sometimes go to church and call on Jesus by his name
She fed as any blackbird would, whenever hunger came

She learned to play the violin
She did, did the widow of Brid
And Saturday night in a drinking shop
She jumped upon the counter top
And fiddled till the dancers dropped
She did, she did, she did
Stomping upon the copper top
She did, did the widow of Brid

And she was fond of fishing boats and all their beardy crew
And partial to a salty kiss or two
And some of them would gruffly whisper, marry me and stay
But blackbirds do their singing from a different bush each day

She had a massive motorbike
She had, had the widow of Brid
And so she could, when so she wished
Ride back home early-morningish
With her hair in the air and smelling of fish
She did, she did, she did
And every time of a different fish
She did, did the widow of Brid

And though she did no harm the neighbours sniffed, as neighbours do
And day by day a cankerous rancour grew
And many a pair of front-room curtains twitched and shook with rage
For she was wild as blackbirds are, and they were in a cage

They came and broke her window panes
They did, of the widow of Brid
Spat upon her cycle shed
Dragged her out of her Sunday bed
And cropped her hair and shaved her head
They did, they did, they did
They chopped the hair and shaved the head
They did, of the widow of Brid

And when her sobs and hiccups stopped, she tidied everywhere
She cleaned the shed, she swept up all the hair
Some few of them came back in shame to ask her would she stay
But if you ever startle blackbirds, blackbirds go away

She sold her house and bought a wig
A wig, did the widow of Brid
And unrepenting, undeterred
She thundered off to cause a stir
In poor old bloody Scarborough
She did, she did, she did
Forget the spit and the window pane
Bugger Brid, I'm still the same
My hair will always grow again
It did, it did, it did
My hair will always grow again
It did, it did, did, did, on the widow of Brid