Thank you again Dick for these contributions...
He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Bubba, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won't be able to plant my potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
A few days later, he received a letter from his son.
For heaven's sake, Dad, don't dig up that garden. That's where I buried the BODIES. Love, Bubba
At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local Police showed up and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left.
That same day, the old man received another letter from his son.
Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. It's the best I could do under the circumstances. Love, Bubba
As far as we can remember this was written and performed for the Naughty Boys Music Festival held in the clubhouse on 1st October 2004
We are the Naughty Boys of Finchley And we roam from town to town If you ever see us coming Get your money out ‘cause you know that it’s your round Oh Lloydy Lloydy Lloydy Lloydy We thank you for the use of your pub Because there’s no where else in Finchley That would let a bunch like us ever use their snug If you ever come to London To take in all the sights Make sure that you get down to Finchley Come on in and see the famous shelf of Shite We are the naughty boys of Finchley And it’s our anniversary I can’t remember when we got together But it sure feels like bloody purgatory I hope to see you here again next year We really must do this again But if your not I think that I’ll understand that My bloody awful singings done it again Words and music copyright Dick Callan