Song composed for the Rosenethe 40th birthday party
(Sung to the tune of ‘A Gordon for me’)

Chorus
A Georgie for me
A Georgie for me
“A George it must be”, was McVicar’s decree.
George Farmer, George Stewart,  George Wilson an a’
And the Georgeous young Matthew, the pride o’ them a’.

The basses are growling awa  doon there.
They’re long in the tooth, and a bit short of hair.
But oh they’re so generous, all agree:
Instead of one note they aye give two or three.

The altos are perfect. They’re always in time,
Their tone is mellifluous, diction sublime.
They’re all far too shapely to ever go flat,
And, as for volume, well, they’ve got Pat.

Sopranos are split into second and first,
There’s Di the Poster and Beth the Purse
With Sheila the Raffle, they know what to wear
— Which leaves Mary the Chair, tearing her hair.

We tenors are special, and when we’re on song,
Ian lends weight, John knows where we went wrong,
Ken loves the music, Alastair floats,
Alex lends colour, Bill knows the notes.

That Matthew’s a tyrant that none dare refuse:
“You can sing what you like, just as long as I choose”.
He makes us sing on until a’body chokes —
Then gives us a break and tells doubtful jokes.

The Rosenethe is raring for forty more years.
Tye, Tallis or Taverner:  we have no fears.
We’ll rough up Rossini, and, just for a laugh,
We’ll mangle some Handel or murder some Bach.