Sweet Violets

285.  SWEET VIOLETS
Melody--Sweet Violets
(Take turns leading verses)

CHORUS: Sweet violets, sweeter than the roses,
Covered all over from head to toe,
Covered all over in SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

My father was a coal miner,
A coal miner that he was.
Sometimes he'd shovel up coal dust,
And sometimes he'd shovel up SHIT!

My brother was a pilot,
A pilot that he was,
Sometimes he'd land on the runway,
And sometimes he'd land in the SHIT!

My wife, she died on the toilet,
She died of a horrible fit,
And to satisfy her last wishes,
She was buried in six feet of SHIT!

My father went to the woodshed,
Some wood he wanted to split,
But when he grabbed hold of the handle,
He found it was covered with SHIT!

Phyllis Quat kept a sack in the garden,
I was curious I must admit,
One day I stuck in my finger,
And pulled it out covered in SHIT!

I sat in a gold lavatory,
In the home of the Baron of Split,
The seat was encrusted with rubies,
But as usual the bowl contained SHIT!

My brother he worked in a sewer,
Some lamps they had to be lit, 
One evening there was an explosion,
And my brother was covered in SHIT!

Phyllis Quat took a bag to her boy-friend's,
But the paper was old and it split,
Now the boyfriend and Phyllis have parted,
For the bag was packed quite full of SHIT!

Well, now my song is ended,
And I have finished by bit,
And if any of you feel offended,
Stick your head in a bucket of SHIT!

From Paul Woodford, "Hash Hymns II" (Honolulu, Hawaii, 1994)



Hopkins, p. 154, has the "Sweet Violets" melody and nine pungent verses from Canadian military sources:


®NJ¯INSERT HOPKINS SWEET VIOLETS
®JU¯

Now I took my best girl airplane riding,
She sat in the front of the pilot.
And when the aeroplane landed,
She was covered all over with

My father he works in a sewer,
He works very hard for his bit.
And when he comes home in the evening,
His clothes are all covered in

Now Mary she was a milkmaid,
And on her stool she did sit.
And when she had finished her milking,
The cow filled the pail full of

Now I once had rich uncle,
Who died in the course of a fit,®PG¯
And just to fulfill his last wishes,
We buried him in six feet of

Now once there was an old boozer,
Who always got himself lit.
And when he'd pass out completely,
His pants always filled up with

I went out to the woodshed.
Some wood it had to be split.
I picked up the axe by the handle,
It was covered all over with

One day they had an inspection
To see if the rifles were fit,
but when they opened the breeches
They found there [sic] were loaded with

Now this is the end of my story,
It's not very much I admit,
But if anyone here feels offended,
Stick your head in a bucket of