Of George Sims's great hair-raiser, 'Tatcho' I'll sing
'Twill grow hair upon any and everything
If your hearth-rug's worn out out put some 'Tatcho' on quick
In the morn 'twill be covered with hair a foot thick
Dropped on wood will make brushes, put some on your 'nut'
Tho' it's bald in five minutes you'll want your hair cut
So, hairless bounders, raise your hymns
In praise of George Columbus Sims.
Chorus: Oh, 'Tatcho'Oh, 'Tatcho'
Rejoice ye bald but wary men
You'll soon be regular hairy men
Sing for joy, let your voices go
Sprinkle some on your cranium - 'Tatcho'.
Dropped on a string 'twill make boasfor ladies to wear
One drop grows a settee on an old windsor chair
If your dustcoat's worn out, 'Tatcho' lightly thrown on
Makes a fur coat of it fit for Princes to don
Just a drop fell on baby - next day, on my life
He was shaving himself with an old putty knife.
So, thatchless infants, raise your hymns
And praise George R. Nansen Sims.
Last night I dropped some into a jug, and I swear
That this morning I found it was full of jugged hair
A hair mattress 'twill make of a sheet, so 'tis said
But it won't wash clothes and it ain't nice spread on bread
Spread on children it makes monkeys of 'em - it's true
For I've 'tatchoed' ten kids and their now in the Zoo
So, child-blest parents, raise your hymns
And praise George H.M. Stanley Sims.
|Written and composed by E.W. Rogers - 1898|
|Performed by Harry Randall (1860-1932)|