Aurora

Now Johnny Brown from London Town was born in Lambeth Walk. And now that Johnny's growing up, They're teaching him to talk. Maybe in society they think his accent's bad, But down our street they think that he's a Credit to his dad. Johnny Brown was two today. What do you think they heard him say? Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. No one but a Cockney kid could say it The way that Johnny did. Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. Mum was so excited. Dad was so delighted. Bells in every steeple rang out to tell the People, London's mighty proud today. Another Cockney's learnt to say forty thousand Feathers on a thrush. Now then, fellows, off to bed. Let's sing it like the BBC. Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. Mocking cats, that's not the way. Now what would Stuart Hibbert say? Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. Curse the mouth politely. Wet the whistle slightly. All together brightly. A-one, a-two. And the same to you. Now turn it up, you saucy clods. I'm coming down there to do the lot. Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. Professor William Cotton will now address the gang And tell you all about the thrush in good Old rhyming slang. Every little thrush has got a Weasel in his throat. When you say his weasel, You're talking to his throat. Forty thousand Feathers on a thrush. His weasel is the lining of his bushel and Peck. A bump on the bushel is a pimple On the neck. Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. First you've got his weasel. Then you've got his bushel. Next you've got his bubble. His bubble and squeak, his blooming beak. Taken all together, he's Richard III. So when you get the Richard, they're a-giving you The bird. Forty thousand feathers on a thrush. You oughtta count 'em. Forty thousand feathers. Yes! Forty thousand feathers. Yes! Forty thousand feathers on a thrush.