The Ballad of Bobbin Good and the Wily Weaving Woman by McGrath of Harlow


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Anyone is welcome to perform these songs in public without royalties; however, if any of them are recorded or published for profit, the writers/composers expect the usual royalties.

The Song Challenge: The Day That Saji's Sari Slipped and Baji's Bobbin Got Buffed . . . India's health minister has banned the use of condoms to lubricate bobbins used in weaving saris. CP Thakur has told parliament sari makers are using condoms to speed up weaving because condom lubricant was also good at stopping yarn from snapping. Mr. Thakur claims the use of so many condoms in the sari industry is affecting India's population control programme. "Instructions have been issued to stop this practice," Mr Thakur said. Mr Thakur says the use of condoms in weaving is causing shortages and instances of unscrupulous government health workers meant to distribute free condoms to contain population instead selling the condoms to sari makers. Workers rub the condoms on bobbins while they make their brocade saris. The industry is using an estimated half a million condoms every day. Each of the 125,000 looms in the city of Varanasi uses an average four condoms per day. It takes nearly 15 condoms to produce one Benarasi sari. The lubricant on the condom smoothens the bobbin and makes it move faster between threads..

The Ballad of Bobbin Good and the Wily Weaving Woman by McGrath of Harlow

Bold Bobbin strove with all his art
to weave the cloth of green
but the threads they held and would not part
for him to slide between.

And Bobbin cried for a helping hand
to ease him on his way
to smooth his path so he could stand
and make the shuttles play.

And by there came a lady gay,
with a robe so smooth and clear.
"Put on this robe without delay
and your path it will be clear."

And Bobbin cried "That cannot be,
and it will not do at all
and I am grown too large, you see,
and the robe is far too small.

"Oh hold your tongue, you foolish blade
it was made from a wounded tree
and so cunningly this robe is made
it will grow as great as thee."

And she slipped the hood on Bobbin's head
and she stretched it to his feet
and it held him fast as he was dead,
to weave the winding sheet.

And Bobbin Good he met his fate,
and Bobbin's fate was sore
But the hour is late, and very late,
and I can tell no more.