W. Bint
I belong to that great city, London,
In a little place called Somers-Town,
You must know that my father's a barber,
His name, tather common, Bill Brown.
I was a gay young shaver,
But quickly I left my home,
And now I mix with the 'Mashers'
With them, each night, I roam.

Spoken... Of course, they haven't the slightest idea who or what I am, so...

Chorus: I tell them my father's a Marquis,
But wouldn't society frown,
If they knew that he shaved for a penny a time,
In a little shop down Somers-Town.
I tell them he rides in his brougham,
That he's a big swell of the day,
If they knew that my father was knight of the lather,
I wonder whatever they'd say.

I go to a ball or a party,
Sometimes I dance, sometimes play,
At that little game called Ecarte,
I always win, by the way.
Perhaps it's a tenner or twenty,
Just to help me to rub along,
I win from those who have plenty,
Of course I don't cheat or do wrong.


I can play a fair game of billiards,
I'm pretty warm at pool,
I'm A.1. at nap and baccarat,
To back horses I'm not such a fool.
Some wonder how I get the rhino,
To live at the best hotel,
I don't tell them but I know,
If they ask me I say to them, well!

Spoken... I think you are very rude to ask me where I obtain my money, considering...


I go to all the race meetings,
There I pick up a swell,
I tell him I know a winner,
And of course, a stiff'un I tell.
And as I play with his money,
I know he has plenty of pelf,
I tell him tales very funny,
And laugh at the jokes myself,

Written, composed and performed by W. Bint (1850-1913) - 1884
a.k.a. Billy Beau Bint
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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