I'll sing of Hildebrand Montrose, (his proper name is Charlie.)
He speaks as tho' with cold in his 'dose', bad french he tries to parly;
His hair is in barber's ringlets, his eyes are 'made up' dark,
He walks upon his 'uppers' while strolling in the park.

Chorus: Aurevoir, ta, ta! you'll hear him say,
To the Marchioness Clerkenwell,
While bidding her good-day;
I'll strike you with a feather,
I'll stab you with a rose,
For the darling of the ladies,
Is hildebrand Montrose.

His scarf, unlike himself, is green, his gloves, 'no kid' are 'yaller',
His washed out pants are well strapped down, he carries a 'fake' umbrella;
He never pays his tradesmen, to him they'll give him trust,
He drinks dry champagne 'cyder' until he's fit to bust.


His stock in trade of socks count three, he chalks his paper collars,
He always pays his taxes, for his income's just two dollars;
He swears he'll wed a 'duckess' tho he waits 'til 'all is blue',
Tho' he goes to bed a beggar, wakes up the 'Lord Knows Who'.


Written and composed by G.H. MacDermott and Arthur Lloyd - 1876
Performed by G.H. MacDermott (1845 - 1901)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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