Some people like to see the sights, and push and squeeze and shove
A monster exhibition is the sort of thing they love
Hard-working men will leave their jobs
And bruise themselves in struggling mobs
And shovel out their hard-earned 'bobs'
To see an exhibition

Refrain: What do you see when you get there?
Wonderful sideshows everywhere
And as you wander round about
You have to keep on 'forking out'
'What does that big crowd mean?' you say
'Why are the men all fighting, pray?'
Don't be alarmed, there's naught to fear
That's where they sell the cheapest beer
Don't you get hungry! If you do
Lunch will be one pound one for two
If you ride on a switch-back car
Mind you bar the refreshment bar
When on the switch-back once I tripped
All my refreshments flopped and flipped
The ladies went tobogganing there
And most of them I believe took care
To hide from the eyes what ladies wear
They eyed me with suspicion
Oh, what an exhibition.

I love to wander round the zoo, that interesting spot
For specimens of every curious creature they have got
At least, there's one that's not on view, and my opinion is
The zoo should get one soon in order to complete the exhibition.

Refrain: Nobody's tamed this creature yet
Wilder it only seems to get
Can't stand a p'liceman, not one bit
P'licemen are not in love with it
When they capture'd the thing one day
It hollered all the way to Holloway
But nothing in the world can raise its fur
Like a Liberal Cabinet Minister
Look at Mister Asquith, once I read
It attacked him while he was lying in bed
Gave him a kind of nightmare dream
Hence the Old Age Pension scheme
Some people say, though it must be lies
The creature's a woman in disguise
For to see it fighting with a full grown 'slop'
I dairy fed condition, Oh what an exhibition.

I've seen all kind of dancing, and it just suits me to rights
I don't care if it's waltzed in frocks, or it's kicked in tights
But when it's done with wriggling arms
Like scarecrows grown on country farms
While all the band is playing psalms, well, there's an exhibition.

Refrain: On comes a lady queerly clad
Looks at the people - thinks they're mad
Trips round the stage, then twirls and twists
She wants a hard slap on both wrists
All at once there's a very bright light
Shines on a sweet and soothing sight
Somebody's head, all covered with hair
Somebody's head with nobody there
Kisses it, hugs it, and people say
That that's true art, with a great big A
Why kiss a dead man's head? that's waste
Why not a pig's head? that's good taste
Here's the show that gave the 'spur'
To the Watch Committee of Manchester
These stop-watchmen raised a fuss
By stating their opinion thus
'It may suit t' King, but 'twon't suit us
So we won't grant permission, Oh what an exhibition.

Some women put on fancy clothes, you must have noticed that
They'll fix a bird-cage on their heads and call the thing a hat
They'll wear all sorts of things and bits, enough to give a tom-cat fits
And, take it altogether, it's a reg'lar exhibition.

Refrain: Why do they do this? p'r'haps you've guessed
They love to be looked at when they're dressed
That's why it is that every year
Dressmakers think of a new idea
Trains that sweep up the dust and dirt
Skirts that are made so tight, they hurt
Some must be painful things to wear
But if they look smart, girls don't care
Just to see a new hat, they've gone miles
With their Gibson walks and their Odo smiles
The latest thing's the Directoir gown
It'll soon be seen all round the town
And then, as sure as eggs are eggs
What ho, for the girl with the bandy legs
For the leg's on show, well, more than half way
And a skinny one won't bear the light of day
And ladies with that sort are bound to say
With shocked, averted vision, 'Oh, what an exhibition.'
Performed by Ben Albert (1876-1925)
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