Batter your sole ©Brian Hooper Come all you brave heroes with a hunger that grips And I'll sing in the praises of fried fish and chips. There's an English tradition we have to uphold, Give me the fat ladle, I'll batter your sole. From France we do get onions, from Jamaica comes cane, Chop suey from China, paella from Spain; From Scotland comes haggis, and rich Dundee cake, Give me the fat ladle, I'll batter your hake. From Kentucky comes chicken, from Brussels come sprouts, We get pizza from Portugal, or thereabouts; When you've eaten that lot, how ill you will feel, So pass me the aspic, I'll jelly your eel. My wife, she do disturb me as I'm having my tea, 'Cause she won't put the salt on the table for me; She says it will make me a grumpy old sod, Give me the fat ladle, I'll batter your cod.
A rather silly parody on “Fathom The Bowl”.  Jeff Henry and I do a version with alternate verses of each song.