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Harry was a Bolshie

The campsite was officially named the Harry Pollitt Memorial Youth Camp

That didn’t stop young visitors singing this rather disrespectful ballad in the sessions at the Eagle or round the Coppice Campfire.

Harry was a bolshie and one of Lenin’s lads

‘Til he was foully murdered by counter revolutionary cads

By counter revolutionary cads, by counter revolutionary cads

‘Til he was foully murdered by counter revolutionary cads

close-up-of-communist-party-secretary-harry-pollitt

 

He went up to the Pearly Gates, saw Peter on his knees.

“Can I speak to Comrade God? I’m Harry Pollitt please.

I’m Harry Pollitt please, I’m Harry Pollitt please,

“Can I speak to Comrade God? I’m Harry Pollitt please”

 

Said Peter unto Harry “are you humble and contrite?

“I’m a friend of Lady Docker, then OK. you’ll be alright

Then OK. you’ll be alright, then OK. you’ll be alright

“I’m a friend of Lady Docker, then OK. you’ll be alright”

 
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They dressed him in a nightie, put a harp into his hand

And he played the Internationale in the hallelujah band

In the hallelujah band, in the hallelujah band

He played the Internationale in the hallelujah band

 

They put him in the choir, but the hymns he did not like

So he organised the angels and he bought them out on strike

Bought them out on strike, he Bought them out on strike

He organised the angels and he fetched them out on strike

 

One day as God was walking in the grounds to meditate

Who should he see but Harry chalking slogans on the gate

Chalking slogans on the gate, chalking slogans on the gate

Who should he see but Harry chalking slogans on the gate

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They put him up for trial before the Holy Ghost

For spreading disaffection amongst the heavenly host

Amongst the heavenly host, amongst the heavenly host

For spreading disaffection amongst the heavenly host

 

The verdict it was guilty, said Harry “very well”

He tucked his nightie ’round his knees and he floated down to hell

He floated down to hell, he floated down to hell

He tucked his nightie ’round his knees and he floated down to hell

 

A few more years have passed and gone and Harry’s doing well

He’s been made the people’s commissar for Soviet Socialist hell

For Soviet Socialist hell, for Soviet Socialist hell

He’s been made the people’s commissar for Soviet Socialist hell

 

Now seventeen years have passed and John Gollan’s there as well

And all the little devils have joined the YCL.

Now seventeen years have passed and John Gollan’s there as well

And all the little devils have joined the YCL.

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Now the moral of this story is easy for to tell,

If you want to be a Bolshevik, you’ll have got to go to hell,

You’ll have to go to hell, Yes, you’ll have got to go to hell,

If you want to be a Bolshevik, You’ll have got to go to hell!”

 

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