It always has appeared a very funny thing to me
That anyone should ever doubt my word
For instance I went in a shop to buy some odds and ends
And the way I was treated was absurd
I chose a grand piano, a lovely marble top
Some tables, carpets, oilcloth and a bed
But it fairly knocked me silly when the man asked for the 'oof
It seemed like doubting me and I said
'What do you want the money for?
Ain't it only just a bit of hank? (bother)
If I pay you now you'll only spend it
Or else run off and shove it in the bank
If I keep it shan't I find it useful?
Of course I shall, then why be so absurd?
If I say I'll owe it till I pay it
Can't you take my word?'

Talk of doctors being clever
It's a lot of Tommy rot
When I with aches and pains could fairly burst
If I went to see a doctor then before he'd do a thing
He'd want to know just where the pain is first
He'd want to know how long I've been so quisby (unwell) as I am
And ask me what I've lately had to eat
Then crack the good old chestnut about putting out my tongue
But if the pain is in my bloomin' feet
What does he want to see my tongue for?
Feel my pulse and tap my chest about
What right has he to ask me where the pain is?
Ain't that what I pay him to find out?
Oughtn't he to know if he's a doctor?
Of course he ought then why be so absurd?
If I say I'm ill, I'm ill, ain't I
Then can't he take my word?
Written and composed by Harry Boden & Bert Brantford
Recorded 1902 by Harry Ford (1874-1955)
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