MARY-ANN
(The Roving Gardener)
 
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My name is William Simmonds, I'm a Gardener by trade,
Serv'd seven years in one situation,
I first lost my heart, then threw away my space,
Oh! listen to my long lamentation,
Oh! my the world is now to me
A garden of great desolation;
I'm a stem without a flow'r since I lost my Mary Ann,
And left in a state of Agitation.

Chorus: Oh! my, look upon me now,
Will you take a quiet observation,
I've been down to Camden Town to look for Mary Ann,
And returned in a state of agitation.


Her father was a baker, and her mother was a cook,
And they gave her a good education,
She could 'Parley voo Franshay' and talk it like a book
And sing with a deal of animation;
Oh! my then to hear her play
The piano, it was worth a fortune,
For
hours I have stood at "In my cottage near a wood,"
And "Coming Sister Mary" was a caution.

Chorus:

I courted her in silence, for I never told my love,
I thought she was so much above my station,
To gain her heart and hand, across the seas I'd rove,
And try my luck at foreign emigration;
Oh! why did I leave my love behind,
I must have been a piece of vegetation,
To
leave off digging mould, to go dig for gold,
And return in a state of agitation.

Chorus:

I crossed the briny Ocean, and in a foreign land,
I found for myself a habitation,
Alone and solitary I oft thought of Mary Ann,
She was my only consolation;
Oh! my digging every day,
My brow is a boiling perspiration,
But "credit to the bold," I found a lump of gold.
And returned in a state of agitation.

Chorus:

I hurried to her Father's, and asked for Mary-Ann,
And told him I'm come across the Ocean,
With my pockets full of gold and my heart and my hand,
To offer to my "true love's devotion,"
Oh! my list to his reply
"You ought to have been here a little sooner,
But if you should go to Pimlico, ask for Mrs Jones,
She's married a Piany Fortey Tooner."

Chorus:

Moral: They say there's many a slip twixt the goblet and the lip,
So Bachelors a word or two I crave you,
Before you risk your life, for a fortune for a wife,
Be certain that the lady fair will have you;
Oh! my to them you must go,
And boldly declare your adoration,
For how are they to know if you never tell them so,
You'll be left in a state of agitation.

Chorus:
 
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Written, composed and performed by Harry Clifton (1824-1872) - 1864
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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