TURRIBLE SHY WI' THE MAIDS
 
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Now my mother tells me as I ought to marry
She tells me so five or six times every day
'You'll lose all the girls, Bob,' she says, 'If you tarry.'
That's all very fine but I don't know the way
Just give I a sheep or a bullock to handle
There's no lad in Devonshire smarter, they say
But when It's a wench I snuff out like a candle
I can't even linger to bid 'em good-day.

Refrain: For it's oh dear! I be turrible shy
Turrible shy wi' the maids
There be one or two as I'd take for a wife
But when I sees 'em coming I run for my life
An' it's Oh dear! though my feet is at zero
My head's ninety-nine in the shade
At horses and pigs they do say I'm fine
There be no flow of language more powerful then mine
Wi' my 'Gee up, old lass' and 'Get over, you swine'
But you can't say them things to a maid.


Now some people say as them women be rum folk
There's no understandin' 'em, so I've heard tell
Well, as I says is, married life might suit some folk
But 'twouldn't suit me, as I know very well
I once axed old father what he thought about it
He collars my ear twixt his finger and thumb
Then he whispers, 'See here, lad, I don't want to shout about it
If you're for a wife, try and find one that's dumb.'

Refrain: For it's oh dear! I be turrible shy
Turrible shy wi' the maids
There be one or two as I'd take for a wife
But when I sees 'em coming I run for my life
An' it's Oh dear! though my feet is at zero
My head's ninety-nine in the shade
At choosin' a mare I be reckoned all right
I can tell you her age and her temper at sight
An' if she's been eating her bedding at night
But you can't tell them things with a maid.


There's a lassie called Peg all the fellows be courtin'
She's reckoned the purtiest lass in the place
But somehow or 'nother she baint on for sportin'
There's precious few lads gets a sight of her face
An' yet I've a notion it's I as she's after
To meet I sometimes she'll go out of her way
An' as soon as I pass she brims over wi' laughter
I'm mortal afraid as she'll get I one day.

Refrain: For it's oh dear! I be turrible shy
Turrible shy wi' the maids
And I won't say as Peg wouldn't make a good wife
But when I sees her coming I runs for my life
An' it's Oh dear! but them lasses is clever
She'll get I to church I'm afraid
If she was a hoss, now, I'd not care a fig
I'd harness her fast to mt father's old gig
Or tie up her hind-leg if she was a pig
But you can't do them things with a maid.
 
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Written, composed and performed by Dick Henty - 1927
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
 
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