Though something like a century it seems
He told me that he loved me, gave me flowers, books, a ring
And at least a hundred weight of chocolate creams
We married, and I really tried to study Henry's ways
To gratify each wish however small
I thought I was succeeding but of late, to my despair
I find I am a failure after all.
Refrain: For I don't do things like Edward Henry's Mother
She is a kind of saint, no words of mine can paint
Everything she does is right, like her there is no other
'Twould be a different place, we'd be a different race
If we were all like Edward Henry's Mother.
Edward Henry's Mother is a sort of wise machine
I often wish she'd make just one mistake
She never served a custard that she'd meant to be blanc-mange
Or a pudding she'd intended for a cake
She knows what suits dear Henry more than I, or he himself
To cook for him, for instance, is an art
She says when I fry bacon nothing 'rasher' can I do
And about my pastry, her remarks are 'tart'.
Refrain: Oh! I don't do things like Edward Henry's Mother
When she expounds her views, I tremble in my shoes
I know that she is perfect and like her there is no other
She's virtues every kind, if in Heav'n I reach I'll find
It's full of beings like Edward Henry's Mother.
She knows how many grains of rice a pudding should contain
At everything like that she'd an adept
She knows the proper month one ought to change to thicker vests
And always seems to know where things are kept
She mixes quarts of evil stuff to drink and rub your chest
And doses Edward Henry on the sly
She'd cure appendicitis with an egg and lemon juice
On buttons she sews on you can rely.
Refrain: I don't do things like Edward Henry's Mother
Beneath her stony stare I colour to my hair
When she is near I feel that I've done something wrong or other
I long to go on strike and wish 'twere lady-like
To pull the nose of Edward Henry's Mother.
Edward Henry's sisters have been trained by their Mamma
And oh! the bringing up those girls have had
They'd all make simply model wives, but somehow don't 'go off'
Which sometimes makes Mamma 'go on' like mad
They often come to see me, and they look at me like this
Then kiss me several times and praise my frock
They'd like to manage baby if I'd let them, but I won't
And they're always finding dust behind the clock.
Refrain: I don't do things like Edward Henry's Mother
Beneath her eagle glance I never get a chance
A lot of girls will sympathise, they perhaps know such another
And if to Heav''n she'll go I'd rather go - elsewhere
I am so sick of Edward Henry's Mother.
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