FATHER, DEAR FATHER, THE BROKERS ARE IN
 
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Oh Father, dear Father, come home with me now
My Mother has sent me to say
That she and her children are starving at home
While you're drinking your wages away
We're smothered in dust and the boiler's bust
And the baby kicks up such a row
We haven't a crust and can't get any trust
So Father come home with me now.

Chorus: Oh Father, dear Father, the brokers are in
We've ate all the victuals and drunk all the gin
The poor little dicky-bird's gasping with thirst
And he hasn't got strength to go 'Chirrupy, chirrupy'
Mother's gone into a fit on the mat
The Tallyman's come with his rat-a-tat-tat
They've cut off the water, the clock's lost a quarter
So Father come home with me now.


Oh Father, dear Father, you'd better come home
Or Mother declares she will cut
We're all topsy-turvy, the chimney's a-fire
And the place is all covered with soot
Everything's gone, there's nothing to pawn
In fact things are all any how
Poor Mother's forlorn, she does nothing but mourn
She is crying both day and night now.

Chorus:

Oh Father, dear Father, come home with me do
You know there is no place like home
It's wicked, dear Father, to go on the drink
And away from your children to roam
We haven't a stick and we can't get a lick
Of victuals, dear Father, I'm sure
The chandler is quick to refuse any tick
He won't chalk it up any more.

Chorus:
 
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Performed by Herbert Campbell (1844-1904)
Performed by James Francis (1840-1886)
 
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