THE POOR LITTLE WINKLE
 
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I feel fairly spifflicated, broken up and battered down,
Like a chuckle-headed looney,
Fell in love with 'Liza Mooney';
Went and spliced her, Oh! my eyesight!
From her clutches I can't slip,
Once I used to give her presents, now I'd like to give her jip.

Chorus: Oh! that wicked young woman, she's turned out quite a sell,
Why didn't she leave me alone when I was in my shell?
Everytime she digs me out, her eyes begin to twinkle,
She's the pin that gave me the needle and I'm the poor little winkle.

If you're buying rags and rubbish, bung me on the blooming scale.
While she's togged in silk and satin,
I, for socks, wear bits of mattin'!
I had coin as well as comfort,
In my early days, I vow;
But believe me, on my oath, I've neither peace nor pieces now.

Chorus:

She sits wolfing wine and whisky, I get water-on-the-brain,
As for grub, when she starts stuffing,
S'elp me bob! she leaves me nuffin'
Though, you bet, I looked and felt as
Hungry as a work-house rat;
All I had to eat last week was two split peas and half a sprat.

Chorus:

 
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Written and composed by Albert E, Ellis & Allan Macey
Performed by George Beauchamp (1863-1901)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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