| SHE NEVER DOES THAT TO ME | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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I know a young lady who dotes on her pets So much that all of her friends she forgets I am supposed now to be her sweetheart But a little dog makes me with jealousy smart She takes him and fondles him, brim full of bliss While I sit there hungering just for a kiss She sits by the fire sometimes for a nap And places that ugly young cur on her lap. Chorus: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She smothers him simply with 'darlings' and 'dears' She kisses his nose and scratches his ears I wish I were a dog, when he dozes on her lap She says he's the sweetest young thing in the world But she never says that to me. Chorus 2: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She smothers him simply with 'darlings' and 'dears' She kisses his nose and scratches his ears I wish I were a dog, when he dozes on her lap She says he's nicer than chocolate creams But she never says that to me. Then she has a wicked and vicious old cat I'm mad with envy when she cuddles that She must be wanting in taste, you'll agree When she turns up her nose at a fellow like me She says that he's pretty, and if that's the case She p'haps wants a man with a pussy-cat face I nearly go wild, and always protest To see Thomas curled up in joy on her breast. Chorus: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She feeds him on tit-bits which she cooks alone While I am content to gaze at the bone I wish I were a puss, when her doting ways I see She tickles her chin with the hair on his face But she never does that to me. Chorus 2: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She feeds him on tit-bits which she cooks alone While I am content to gaze at the bone I wish I were a puss, when her doting ways I see She cuddles that tom-cat until he can't breath But she never does that to me. And also this curious young lady has got One small canary, which beats all the lot Never such nonsense have ever you heard If I take her some sweets she gives all to the bird Should it make a noise she is filled with delight And at her dear finger she loves it to bite The best of all food she give it to eat And all day she calls it 'Her pretty sweet-sweet' Chorus: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She smoothes down its feathers, and often I swear I'm asked to imagine I am not there I wish I were a bird, could I but belong to she She takes it upstairs in her bedroom to sing But she never does that to me. Chorus 2: Why doesn't she do that to me? I could appreciate it She smoothes down its feathers, and often I swear I'm asked to imagine I am not there I wish I were a bird, could I but belong to she She lets it look on while she's getting undressed But she never does that to me. |
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| Written and composed by George Arthurs & Kenneth Lyle (1903) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Performed by George Lashwood (1863-1942) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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