written & performed by Mel B. Spurr At a bar where folks were drinking Stood a woman, bent and grey, Drowning all her cares in liquor, In the old familiar way. By her side a man was standing, Unto whom the woman spoke: 'Thank ye, Sir, and vurry kindly, You're a decent sort o' bloke! As a rule the coves wot sees me Sends me to the right-abaht: But, since you've took pity on me, I drinks yer 'ealth in this 'ere staht. Oh, 'tis 'ard!' bewailed the woman, 'Usband caged for a-sheddin' gore: Jim, my eldest son a-flyin' From the mermaids of the lor. 'Bet, my eldest gal, is doin' Eleving weeks!—hexcuse these tears!— Sam, my youngest, cort a-burglin'— Safe for six or seven years. Bill is doin' time in Portland, In re-form-a-tory cell. Jane, my pretty Jane, is lyin' For a twelve month—poor young gel! All my children hev forsook me! Left me on my lonely way: And a puffick stranger's stood me All the drink I've 'ad today!' 'Edn't you another horff-spring?' Said the stranger, bending low. 'Wot was nabbed for parsing flimsies? W'ich 'is Chris'en name were Joe? 'Well, I'm 'im.—Wot! Don't ye know me? Preeaps my 'air is rather short. But I'm Joe—don't make no herror— Wot three year ago were cort. Say!—Ye ain't forgot me, mother? Joe, yer know, wot married Sal: Many a month in quod I've 'ad for Jumpin' on that sweet young gal! 'Ev another drink, dear mother! No! there ain't no hextry charge. Jest to think! Of all your fam'ly I'm the honly one at large. Don't ye think as I'll forsake ye. Come into my lonely den: I will cherish and pertect ye—Mother!— Till I'm kotched agen!'
The end