DESDEMONIA
 
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Listen to my tale of woe, my heart aches ever so
There's a little eastern maid who lives above;
Each night with heart on fire I go and strike my lyre
And then I seranade my turtle dove.

Chorus: Oh Desdemonia, my Persian star
Oh Desdemonia, how cold you are.
I've done everything to please you
Just because I long to squeeze you.
Goodness knows I took off my clothes
And dressed myself up like Julius Caesar.
Oh, Desdemonia, I await outside,
Oh, Desdemonia will you be my bride.
If you won't be my Desdemonia
I'm not standing out here to catch pneumonia
I'm going to put my trousers on
And go back to Wigan where the tripe comes from

Beneath her window pane a rival lover came,
And sang to her a song so soft and low.
He said, 'My heart's on fire' and so I struck the lyre,
And this is not the lyre that felt the blow.

Chorus: Oh Desdemonia, my Persian star
Oh Desdemonia, how cold you are.
I've done everything to please you
Just because I long to squeeze you.
Goodness knows I took off my clothes
And dressed myself up like Julius Caesar.
Oh, Desdemonia, I await outside,
Oh, Desdemonia will you be my bride.
If you won't be my Desdemonia
I'm not standing out here to catch pneumonia
I'm going to put my trousers on
And go back to Wigan where the tripe comes from.

 
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Written, composed and performed by Billy Merson (1881-1947)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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