Uncle Harry

歌詞

As recorded at Las Vegas in June, 1955 My family has traditions, I've heard them a thousand times, My relatives were not excessively bright. They love to go off on missions To rather peculiar climes And lead the wretched heathens to the light A few of them got beaten up In course of these rampages My dear Aunt Maud got eaten up While singing "Rock of Ages." These family expeditions Admittedly are a bore, But there is just one uncle That I positively adore. Poor Uncle Harry Wanted to be a missionary So he took a ship and sailed away. This visionary, Hotly pursued by dear Aunt Mary, Found a South Sea Isle on which to stay. The natives greeted them kindly and invited them to dine On yams and clams and human hams and vintage coconut wine, The taste of which was filthy, but the after-effects divine. Poor Uncle Harry Got a bit gay and longed to tarry. This, Aunt Mary couldn't quite allow. She lectured him severely on a number of church affairs But when she'd gone to bed he made a getaway down the stairs, For he longed to find the answer to a few of the maiden's prayers. Uncle Harry's not a missionary now. Poor Uncle Harry After a chat with dear Aunt Mary Thought the time had come to make a row. He lined up all the older girls in one of the local sheds And while he was reviling them, and tearing himself to shreds They took their Mother Hubbards off and tied them around their heads. Uncle Harry's not a missionary now— He's awfully happy— But he's certainly not a missionary now! Now Uncle was just a 'seeker', A 'dreamer' sincerely blest, Of this there couldn't be a shadow of doubt. The fact that his flesh was weaker Than even Aunt Mary guessed Took even her some time to figure out. In all those languid latitudes The atmosphere's exotic, To take up moral attitudes Would be too idiotic, Though nobody could be meeker Than Uncle had been before I bet today he's giving way At practically every pore! Poor Uncle Harry Having become a missionary Found the natives' morals rather crude. He and Aunt Mary Quickly imposed an arbitrary Ban upon them shopping in the nude. They all considered this silly and they didn't take it well, They burned his boots and several suits and wrecked the Mission Hotel, They also burnt his mackintosh, which made a disgusting smell. Poor Uncle Harry After some words with dear Aunt Mary Called upon the chiefs for a pow-wow. They didn't brandish knives at him, they really were awfully sweet, They made concerted dives at him and offered him things to eat, But when they threw their wives at him he had to admit defeat. Uncle Harry's not a missionary now. Poor dear Aunt Mary Though it were revolutionary Thought her time had come to take a bow. Poor Uncle Harry looked at her, in whom he had placed his trust, His very last illusion broke and crumbled away to dust, For she'd placed a flower behind her ear and frankly...exposed... her bust. Uncle Harry's not a missionary now— He's left the island— But he's certainly not a missionary now.