LITTLE GOLDEN HAIR (Parody) |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
There lived a maiden fair with lovely golden hair And 'Little Golden Hair' they called the pet Her teeth were pearly white, her eye-brows perfect quite And mashers she had by the score, you bet But soon the favoured beau - young Bertie Rotten-row She said she'd marry, much to his delight But on the night they wed, when Bertie home was led He looked at his fair bride and shrieked with fright. Chorus: Her pearly teeth were in a glass upon the mantle-piece Her eye-brows too had given her the sack Her bald head made Bertie stare - by the bedside stood a chair And her golden hair was hanging on the back. Poor Bertie's wife grew tired of him whom she'd admired And one day said, 'I'm going a journey short To aunt's at Stepney, dear.' but still it's very queer To go to Stepney via Hampton Court That very afternoon you might have seen her spoon The lodger, and they walked till she grew tired On a milestone painted new she sat down a tick or two Until to journey homeward she desired. Chorus: She smoothed her curls and told her husband aunt was far from well And that Stepney was a spot so poor and black But oh dear! on turning round, where she'd sat down Bertie found She had 'Fouteen miles to London' on her back From that day Bertie rashed up West would go and mash While his dear wife would with the lodger roam Till with him one fine day she calmly sloped away But not before she'd sold the happy home The man with whom she'd flown soon left her on her own And one most rainy night in Leicester Square I peeped beneath my mush, and lying in the slush Saw Bertie's wife, poor 'Little Golden Hair'. Chorus: She said, 'No, p'liceman, I'm not drunk - I'm very tired and ill Fetch brandy, please - I've got the old attack.' But her breath spoilt all her chance, and soon on the ambulance 'Little Golden Hair' was lying on her back. A moral's in this tale - I hope it will not fail My preaching I must beg you to excuse Girls, don't wear wigs - take care if you want golden hair 'Peroxide', is the finest thing to use And men who're Benedicks, oh ne'er get in a fix By seeking maidens fresh and pastures new If kissing you like much, then kiss your own old Dutch Do as I say, but don't do as I do. Chorus: For when a girl with ruby lips and golden hair you see You feel inclined to give the wife the sack From that kiss at once retreat, tho' 'twould be like angels sweet All a-pouring golden syrup down your back. |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Written and composed by E.W. Rogers - 1895 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Performed by Arthur Lennard (1867-1954) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||
![]() |
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||
|