Uncle Sam was written in 1949, and was included in 'Hey nonny no!' in 1951 (songs for a revue by Cambridge Theatre Group: Lullaby ‑ It doesn’t mean a thing ‑ Uncle Sam ‑ I’m Bertha the bearded lady ‑ Advice to young ladies).
First line: Uncle Sam we’re in a jam.
The typeset score presented below was typeset from MS.Tranchell.2.488 and the melody was derived from the piano part. MS.Tranchell.2.489(1) includes three other versions of the text, each slightly different.
One typescript version of the text includes the following instructions:
(To be sung by two young men with quasi-dance motions here and there, à la seaside folderols) (Dress: White trousers, straw hats and blazers)
Image from the cover sheet of Uncle Sam, a song by Peter Tranchell
Lyrics
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. You lend us money but things look black, & it isn't funny ’cos we can't pay back. Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we're in a jam. We’re hot beneath the collar we’ve spent the bottom dollar & there’s nothing more to follow from Uncle Sam.
You make us buy your luxury goods just when we shouldn't need’em, You give us plans for economy, then force us to exceed’em. Our government buyers find you sweet, but somehow you mislead’em. And step by step you're whittling down our heritage of Freedom! Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. We’re well aware you put us there, so have a care, Uncle Sam!
Britannia may rule the waves. Who cares how the sea behaves? No matter how anyone scrimps and saves we’re Uncle Sam’s financial slaves! Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. You’ve the tin, can afford to lend it but it wears a bit thin, when you tell us how to spend it. Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. The Marshal Aid’s a cunning wheeze to fix our trade just how you please. Heaven help us, for we’re on our knees, at the mercy of Uncle Sam!
Stipulations, regulations, multiply ev’ry week. Your talks with debtor nations are so charming tho’ oblique. And when you’ve achieved our distress. You tell us in your press that John Bull & Uncle Sam are dancing cheek to cheek!
When we’ve something meaty, a trade treaty in the air, then you get interested, but pretend not to interfere. Of course there’s no ill feeling, but it’s just a bit revealing, when you send us quietly reeling with a flea in our ear!
You’re building us up with films, with tinn’d herring and tinn’d beans. We have to buy your most costly raw material for our machines, But you’re making it clear we've nothing to fear, and we know just what that means! We’re grateful for all this kindness with the Reds just behind the scenes! What that’s for, is, we’re a cat’s paw!
We must lower our standard of living, our currency faces disaster, We'll soon be a little colony with a transatlantic master, and as our culture descends, we’re bound to be lifelong friends, tho’ you tell us we’re apathetic, and ought to work harder and faster.
You can blame your constitution, and gently walk out of a pact. Your claim to be a new nation still earns deferential tact, for all are agreed, you’ve gained the lead with a nasty little fact:— that teeny weeny Bikini, where the atom bombs are stacked! While as for Harwell,— Ah well!
Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. It would be hateful to seem ungrateful but we’ve had our plateful of Uncle Sam! Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, Uncle Sam, we’re in a jam. Your plans for aid have lost their “glam”. While we're sinking, you can scram, & all we can say is “Blast and Damn, the dollar's from Uncle Sam!”
