Men and Women of Harrogate

 (To the tune of " March of the Men of Harlech ")

When at Harrogate, no doubt you
Notice people round about you,
Every time you wander out, you
Cannot help but see
Some in "make–up" are believers,
Some with wigs are gay deceivers,
Some shave clean, and some are "Beavers,"
Deary, deary me.
Some are stout and short 'uns,
Regular Arthur Ortons,
Some wear scowls,
And look like owls
To show their own importance
Some have healthy fine complexions,
Some are arrayed in sweet confections,
Bound to capture your affections
Instantaneous–lee.

Busy folks and lazy slackers,
Shabby girls with hair in " crackers,"
Some are little, some are whackers,
Seen on every hand.
Some are wealthy, some are stoney,
Some are long and thin and bony,
Like a stick of macaroni,
Others plump and grand.
Some are chic and slender,
Many clothed in splendour,
Others togs
Would frighten dogs,
They look like some East–ender,
Some have noble handsome faces,
But there, of course, are other cases,
Where you see the Darwin traces,
Good old Monkey Brand.

Men who're gay, and men who're tearful,
Some are solemn, some are cheerful,
Some have faces simply fearful
When you see them frown.
Some, though wearing smiles seraphic,
Talk in language free and graphic,
Stop the clocks, also the traffic
Up and down the Town;
Some are free and frisky,
Fond of wine and whisky,
Others think
All kinds of drink
Are sinful, wrong and risky,
But thanks to all its Baths and Waters,
Harrogate's fine Sons and Daughters
(So agree the Town's Reporters)
Have a great renown.