FOR ME, FOR ME
 
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Down our street, there is a blooming riot
Five and twenty girls are waiting there
And the Police, they cannot keep them quiet
They won't go, for, you know, every maiden fair ...
For me, for me, she's waiting there for me
They can wait 'til a man can swear
There's not a tart near Leicester Square
Ha ha, he he, I'm not going there, you see
If anyone knows a trick or two, 'tis me, me, me!

Down our street, I met a country joskin
And I had him for his watch and chain
On his snout, I hit him such a cosher
He fell whack, on his back, down in Drury Lane.
For me, for me, he's waiting there for me
He can wait 'til his watch can walk
A blind man see and a dumb man talk
Ha ha, he he, I'm not going there, you see
If anyone knows a trick or two, 'tis me, me, me!

Our landlord, without any warning
Thought he'd try a modern sort of plan
He went round to my house this morning
With a stick, nice and thick, and a broker's man
For me, for me, he's waiting there for me
He can wait 'til the moon shines green
White hairs grow on a black man's chin
Ha ha, he he, I'm not going there, you see
If anyone knows a trick or two, 'tis me, me, me!

Down our street, there is a cabby waiting
And he thinks he's got a splendid fare
After several hours hesitating
I jumped out, for some stout, left him standing there
For me, for me, he's waiting there for me
He can wait 'til his horse drops dead
White hairs grow on a black man's head
Ha ha, he he, I'm not going there, you see
If anyone knows a trick or two, 'tis me, me, me!

 
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Written and composed by Harry Wincott & Joseph Tabrar - 1895
Performed by Fred Earle (1877-1915)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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