Now, you talk about yer ladies, female aristocratic swells,
I'll bet there ain't one to come up to my gal, Polly Wells.
She's not a stuck-up dona, no, she's all the other tack;
She likes a drop of 'lotion' and she likes to pay her whack.
She's up to every sort of spree and game for any lark,
Lor! see her on Bank Holiday, that's just about her mark.
But there! I've just remembered that I've come to take her out,
I can see her at the winder, so I'll give the usual shout,

Chorus: Oh, Polly! pretty little Polly!
Throw up the sash and kiss yer hand, or nod;
I've come to take yer out,
So chuck yerself about,
You're a-going to see the drama, Sweeney Todd.

What say, Polly? Oh yer want to know who plays the villian's part?
I've got the program in my kick, I'll tell yer pretty smart.
It's that same bloke what played it when we seed it there, before,
You know, when that cove kissed yer and I nearly broke his jaw.
Oh, no! I wasn't jealous, Poll, no not a bloomin' bit,
(I felt as though I'd like to kick that feller in the pit.)
There! now she's shut the winder down! Oh, me but that's unkind,
No, no she ain't, she's there and she's peeping through the blind!


Now, I ain't got many quids, I ain't but still, I got a few,
And I come into plenty more, say, a year or two;
Lor! then won't I be happy with my Polly by my side!
But blowed if I can wait 'til then for her to be my bride.
As soon as we come from the play, I'm going up them stairs,
To ask her dad's consent for Poll to share my joys and cares.
And, if he'll only give it, won't it fill my heart with bliss!
'Cos then I shan't stand outside here and keep a-shouting this,

Written and composed by Harry Castling & F.W. Venton - 1891
Performed by Alec Hurley (1871-1913)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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