Oi've sarved a many masters, an' oi've travelled in my toime
Oi've been as fur as twenty moile from 'ere
Oi'm eighty-four coom Christmas, an' Oi feels just in my proime
An' never was moi yed an' thoughts more clear
Moi son left the village nigh on thirty years ago
An' drat un 'e coom back 'ome t'other day
T'ain't that Oi grumbles at, at all, tho' that there were a blow
It's 'is 'Oi knows all about it' sort of way.

Chorus: Oi've been moindin' the farm 'ere fur forty five years
And 'afore that, the pigs in the sty
An oi knows wot oi knows, and oi 'ears what oi 'ears
An 'e can't take a roise out of oi.

'E sez as 1 Oi'm be'ind the toimes, wotever that may mean
Becos Oi don't take kindly tew 'is ways
'E tells about play actors, an' all sich like as 'e's seen
An' sez as 'ow theayter bizness pays
Lord Sakes, I gits that roiled, as Oi could it an when 'e talks
A-sayin' as 'ow actors roides in style
Oi've seed un ride at circus, but on coming out they walks
'E laughs at Oi, an' that makes my blood bile.


'E musn't think as 'ow becos 'e's lived in Lunnon Town
'E's ev'rybody - me amongst the rest
Oi've 'arf a moind to show up, or reyther take un down
Oi 'ardly knows which way ud be the best
Soomtoimes I let un talk, and then Oi busts into a laugh
Oi never did 'ear sich a pack o' loies
'E sez as 'ow 'e's seed a thing they calls a phonygraph
You turns a 'andle, an' it talks an' croies.

Written and composed by Albert Chevalier & Alfred H. West - 1896
Performed by Albert Chevalier (1861-1923)
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