| COMIN' THRO' THE RYE (Parody) |
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Such a flabby, shabby babby In my youth was I And though dirty, I got 'shirty' If washing me they'd try When ma sought a can of water, 'George, my boy,' I'd cry 'You'd better slope, or Sunlight Soap Will come into your eye. Getting older, likewise bolder, I to betting took Laid the horses on race-courses, Made a silver book All those who lost knew to their cost I never did a guy But winners found my fist around And coming to their eye. If while drinking you are winking At the barmaid fair Don't get chaffing her, and laughing At her golden hair Should you tell her that it's yeller Hue is due to dye You'd better scoot, before her boot Can come into your eye. When the morning light is dawning, Auntie takes her plunge Though forbidden, oft I've hidden, Tin-tacks in her sponge My eyes have glistened when I've listened To her anguished cry But since that date she's ne'er sat straight, But just a bit awry. |
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| Performed by Herbert Campbell (1844-1904) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||