There is a poem, from Yorkshire I think, all about a family outing to a zoo and unfortunately Albert gets dragged into the lion's cage and is eaten by the lion. Its all at the back of my mind somewhere but I can't come up with a specific quote or author. Can anyone help?

The lion and Albert
Stanley Holloway

There's a famous seaside town called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.

A grand little lad was young Albert
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.

They didn't think much to the Ocean
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded
Fact, nothing to laugh at, at all.
So, seeking for further amusement
They paid and went to the zoo
Where they'd lions and tigers and camels
And old ale and sandwiches too.

There were one great big lion called Wallace
His nose were all covered with scars
He lay in a somnolent posture
With the side of his face on the bars.

Now Albert had heard about lions
How they was ferocious and wild
To see Wallace lying so peaceful
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.

So straight 'way the brave little feller
Not showing a morsel of fear
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And shoved it in Wallace's ear.
You could see the lion didn't like it
For giving a kind of a roll
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
And swallowed the little lad 'ole

Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence
And didn't know what to do next
Said "Mother! Yon lions 'et Albert"
And Mother said "Well, I am vexed!"

Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Quite rightly, when all's said and done
Complained to the Animal Keeper
That the lion had eaten their son.

The keeper was quite nice about it
He said "What a nasty mishap
Are you sure it's your boy he's eaten?"
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!"
The manager had to be sent for
He came and he said "What's to do?"
Pa said "Yon lion's 'et Albert
And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."

Then Mother said, "Right's right, young feller
I think it's a shame and a sin
For a lion to go and eat Albert
And after we've paid to come in."

The manager wanted no trouble
He took out his purse right away
Saying "How much to settle the matter?"
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?"

But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone
She said "No! someone's got to be summonsed"
So that was decided upon.
Then off they went to the Police Station
In front of the Magistrate chap
They told 'im what happened to Albert
And proved it by showing his cap.

The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really to blame
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name.

At that Mother got proper blazing
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
"What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"

the author is Marriott Edgar

ok, here is the explanation . . .
it took me 2 seconds to realize, after "copy and paste"
that the author's name was wrong ...

the poem is by Marriott Edgar, of course, and it was recorded by
Stanley Holloway ( and the site I copied it from had Mr. Holloway as
the author)

so once again, sorry !

http:www.monologues.co.uk/
gives many more.

Very strange. When I first read the question, I immediately thought it was by Hilaire Beloc. But no, Beloc's is this one:

[www.cs.rice.edu]

[www.monologues.co.uk] /> Let's see if this works..

There's a dispute over the first line! Apparently, it should should be

'There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool'.

See this site, which also offers a recording of the poem read/recited by Marriott Edgar;

[www.monologues.co.uk] />
The poem IS called The Lion and Albert.

I can see Blackpool Tower on a clear day. It also appears in another poem by Marriott Edgar, Three 'Alfpence a Foot;

The 'ouses were soon under water,
And folks to the roof 'ad to climb.
They said 'twas the rottenest summer
That Bury 'ad 'ad for some time.

The rain showed no sign of abating,
And water rose hour by hour,
'Til the only dry land were at Blackpool,
And that were on top of the Tower.

I've just found this site, so this might seem a bit of a delayed answer since you wrote your message on 22/3, but here is the benefit of my knowledge anyway.

The author is widley known as Marriott Edgar, but Stanley Holloway co-wrote a lot of the poems we know to be Marriott's, as he and Marriott worked closely together for some years. Stan, however, was quite happy for Marriott's name to be acknowledged as author - it wasn't 'sour grapes' or anything.

And it's from Lancashire, not Yorkshire as someone was wondering - just like Postman Pat is from the Lake District and not the Yorkshire Dales. But that's another story...

Hutch

What are you sorry for? this is great!! thanks for the update!

Coin
"Try your wings"

I know that this chap's music is (somewhat) widely available---except for sarf effrikka---our own broadcasters have disappeared so far up their own fundanents that they are breathing through their skin.

Help me with anything you think is suitable---except religious poetry!---and I shall bemost grateful.

Asparagus
by Marriott Edgar


Mr. Ramsbottom went to the races,
A thing as he'd ne'er done before,
And as luck always follers beginners,
Won five pounds, no-less and no-more.

He felt himself suddenly tempted
To indulge in some reckless orgee,
So he went to a caffy-a-teerer
And had a dressed crab with his tea.

He were crunching the claws at the finish
And wondering what next he would do,
Then his thoughts turned to home and to Mother,
And what she would say when she knew.

For Mother were dead against racing
And said as she thought 'twere a sin
For people to gamble their money
Unless they were certain to win.

These homely domestic reflections
Seemed to cast quite a gloom on Pa's day
He thought he'd best take home a present
And square up the matter that way.

' Twere a bit ofa job to decide on
What best to select for this 'ere,
So he started to look in shop winders
In hopes as he'd get some idea.

He saw some strange stuff in a fruit shop
Like leeks with their nobby ends gone,
It were done up in bundles like firewood-
Said Pa to the Shopman, "What's yon?"

"That's Ass-paragus-what the Toffs eat"
Were the answer; said Pa "That 'll suit,
I'd best take a couple of bundles,
For Mother's a bobby for fruit."

He started off home with his purchase
And pictured Ma all the next week
Eating sparagus fried with her bacon
Or mashed up in bubble-and-squeak.

He knew when she heard he'd been racing
She'd very nigh talk him to death,
So he thought as he'd call in the ' Local'
To strengthen his nerve and his breath.

He had hardly got up to the counter
When a friend of his walked in the bar,
He said "What ye got in the bundle?"
"A present for Mother," said Pa.

It's 'sparagus stuff what the Toffs eat "
His friend said "It's a rum-looking plant,
Can I have the green ends for my rabbits?"
said Pa "Aye, cut off what you want.

He cut all the tips off one bundle,
Then some more friends arrived one by one,
And all of them seemed to keep rabbits
Pa had no green ends left when they'd done.

When he got home the 'ouse were in dark ness,
So he slipped in as sly as a fox,
Laid the 'sparagus on kitchen table
And crept up to bed in his socks.

He got in without waking Mother,
A truly remarkable feat,
And pictured her telling the neighbours
As 'twere 'sparagus-what the toffs eat.

But when he woke up in the morning
It were nigh on a quarter to ten,
There were no signs of Mother, or breakfast
Said Pa, "What's she done with her-sen?"

He shouted "What's up theer in t' kitchen?"
She replied, "You do well to enquire,
Them bundles of chips as you brought home
Is so damp... I can't light the fire."

Les