Mysteries that can't easily be guessed, I'd have 'em burnt or muzzled
Take your girl - that artificial pearl, who leads you on to splice her
Ten to one, when deed is done, you'll never become a twicer.
Chorus: One's enough, try it and show your pluck
One's enough, try it and chance your luck
Wives you see are a mystery
You never know where to find 'em
Leave 'em alone and they'll come home
And bring their mothers behind 'em.
Fowls are things that see a lot of life, but hanged if you can trust 'em
Every morn they'll wake you up at dawn, and make you swear you'll bust 'em
Eggs have yokes that play a lot of jokes, their birthdays should be dated
You can tell that an egg's not well, or the hen wasn't vaccinated.
Chorus: One's enough, try it and show your pluck
One's enough, try it and chance your luck
Eggs you see are a mystery
You never know where you'll find 'em
Leave 'em alone and they'll come home
And bring Mr Rimmel behind 'em.
Railway bars, from people in the cars, provoke some flow'ry language
Fifteen bob for a thimbleful of Scotch, and ten for a carpet 'sangwige'
One pound one for a cemetery bun, as old as 'Madam Angot'
But hold your breath, there's violent death in a cup of Railway Congo.
Chorus: One's enough, try it and show your pluck
One's enough, try it and chance your luck
Railway tea is a mystery
Oh where do the bounders find it?
Leave it alone - the tea's gone home
And it's got your money behind it.
Sweet wee girls with pretty little curls,
Their parent's fondest joys are
They're not half so troublesome to bath as dirty little boys are
Round some ditch with a maggot on a switch,
That's where the darned young skunk is
Boys are worse than an empty purse
Or a waggon-load of monkeys.
Chorus: One's enough, try it and show your pluck
One's enough, try it and chance your luck
Boys you see are a mystery
It's not any use to mind 'em
Leave 'em alone and they'll come home
With their shirt-tails hanging behind 'em.
Insects - no matter what the sex, require a deal of catching
When they race they always 'get a place'
And chance who does the scratching
There's one chap who's got a happy knack of paying a midnight visit
'Tisn't all fun when your 'hot cross bun'
Is nipped by a 'guess what is it.'
Chorus: One's enough, try it and show your pluck
One's enough, try it and chance your luck
A Fleadledee is a mystery
In plenty if 'digs' you'll find him
Leave him alone and he'll come home
With the hungry army behind him.
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