CLEVER, AIN'T YOU?
 
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It was on a Monday, not so long ago,
I thought in the country I would go you know
Got upon my safety, rode away in style
Wore my Sunday bloomers, and my Sunday smile
Suddenly - oh dear, oh dear, an accident occurred
I fell off that blooming bike, in manner too absurd
Went in a muddy ditch, and rather cooled my blood
I said, when a chap cried, 'Misery and mud.'

Chorus: Clever ain't you? tricky, ain't you?
Think you know a bit, don't you?
Ain't you fly? Why, you dirty, paltry tyke
Laughing 'cos I've bust my bike
Why, I'd like to shove my bloomers in your eye.


It was a Tuesday - was it Tuesday? Yes!
I was not in bloomers, but in proper dress
Not anticipating any row or fuss
I hailed a conductor - got upon a 'bus
I went gaily running up the stairs towards the top
Till a certain something caused me suddenly to stop
I heard the conductor say, as I went up the stairs
'Hello! missy, I see you go in for railway shares.'

Chorus: Clever ain't you? tricky, ain't you
Think you know a bit, don't you, ain't you fly.
I know what you're getting at
You can take it out of that
I should like to put my railways in your eye.


It was on a Wednesday, I'd a note from Flo
Flo's my second cousin, spliced a month you know
'Do pop round and see us, we're so lonely here
Bob and I will both be quite delighted dear.'
I went round, and quite enjoyed myself with Bob and Flo
Till, upon the gloomy stairs, when it was time to go
Bob put his arm around me, and to kiss my lips he tried
Then he had the cheek to say, 'I thought it was my bride!'

Chorus: 'Clever ain't you? tricky, ain't you?
Think you know a bit, don't you
Ain't you fly? Took me for the bride? How strange
I know! Thought you'd like a change
Now, hands off! or I shall shove this in your eye.'


It was on a Thursday, what do you think I did?
Wheeled a pram', and sister Jane's new 'Lord forbid'
Such a darling, such a chubby pet
He and I together made a stir, you bet
Mr Daws, the grocer, who's a tricky sort of elf
Thinks that he say funny things, on which he prides himself
Said, 'Oh! What a pretty mite' and then he went 'Coo-oo'
'Pardon me, Miss Marie - er - does he belong to you?'

Chorus: Clever ain't you? tricky, ain't you
Think you know a bit, don't you
Ain't you fly? he's not my kid, Mr Daws
And I don't want any of yours
Why, you - oh you - Garn - I'll punch you in the eye.
 
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Performed by Marie Lloyd (1870-1922)
Performed by George Beauchamp (1863-1901)
 
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