An Original Collection of Songs sung at the Theatres Royal, Public Concerts &c. &c. By W. T. Moncrieff |
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THE TIME O' DAY. |
 | An Original Collection of Songs |  |
THE TIME O' DAY.
I came up to town,
Some half a year ago,
An awkward Country Clown,
Though now I'm quite a Beau!
I did but walk about,
To hear what folks should say—
And, 'cod! I soon found out
What wur the time o'day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Some half a year ago,
An awkward Country Clown,
Though now I'm quite a Beau!
I did but walk about,
To hear what folks should say—
And, 'cod! I soon found out
What wur the time o'day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
243
I found our Blackleg Dons,
White trouser'd plied their trade,
So I some Wellingtons
Of Feather's flour sacks made.
Wi' stays I, like the beaux,
Thought I'd my shape display—
Wi' collar hid my nose,
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
White trouser'd plied their trade,
So I some Wellingtons
Of Feather's flour sacks made.
Wi' stays I, like the beaux,
Thought I'd my shape display—
Wi' collar hid my nose,
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
I'd wore my neckcloths black—
Black neckcloths were the Cape—
They'll do, thought I, good lack,
For 'twill make washing cheap.
My hat I cock'd awry,
A Brutus to display—
Clapp'd quiz glass to my eye,
For that wur time o day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Black neckcloths were the Cape—
They'll do, thought I, good lack,
For 'twill make washing cheap.
My hat I cock'd awry,
A Brutus to display—
Clapp'd quiz glass to my eye,
For that wur time o day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Some rare long bills I run,
Wi' promises to pay,
And when they came to dun,
'Cod, then I ran away!
The Bench wur thereabout—
Where snug three months I lay—
Then whitewash'd walk'd clean out,
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Wi' promises to pay,
And when they came to dun,
'Cod, then I ran away!
The Bench wur thereabout—
Where snug three months I lay—
Then whitewash'd walk'd clean out,
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Through Bond Street then I stroll'd,
And bow'd to Lord knows who—
In pastrycooks I loll'd,
As fashionables do.
I star'd at Peers and Clowns,
And when they turn'd away—
Cried, ‘Sniggers! Dang it! Zounds
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
And bow'd to Lord knows who—
In pastrycooks I loll'd,
As fashionables do.
I star'd at Peers and Clowns,
And when they turn'd away—
Cried, ‘Sniggers! Dang it! Zounds
For that wur time o' day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
244
I met a pratty gal,
Says she, ‘Don't follow me!’
Says I, ‘Ecod, I shall’—
‘I'll slap your face,’ says she.
I dodg'd her North and South,
And, as she rail'd away,
Wi' kisses stopp'd her mouth,
For that wur time o'day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Says she, ‘Don't follow me!’
Says I, ‘Ecod, I shall’—
‘I'll slap your face,’ says she.
I dodg'd her North and South,
And, as she rail'd away,
Wi' kisses stopp'd her mouth,
For that wur time o'day!
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Thus having rov'd about,
Folks' follies to disclose,
I nation soon found out
'Twere time my own should close
So, 'fegs, I'll now take flight,
Or you, mayhap, may say—
He at this time o'night,
Don't know the time o'day!’
Tooral looral loo, &c.
Folks' follies to disclose,
I nation soon found out
'Twere time my own should close
So, 'fegs, I'll now take flight,
Or you, mayhap, may say—
He at this time o'night,
Don't know the time o'day!’
Tooral looral loo, &c.
| An Original Collection of Songs | |