I'm just about the proudest man that walks;
I've got a little nipper—when he talks
I'll lay yer forty shiners to a quid
You'll take 'im for the father, me the kid.
Now as I never yet was blessed wi' wealf,
I've 'ad to bring that youngster up myself,
And, though 'is education 'as been free,
'E's allus 'ad the best of tips from me.

Chorus: And 'e's a little champion—
Do me proud—well 'e's a knockout;
Takes after me and ain't a bit too tall.
'E calls 'is mother 'Sally',
And 'is father 'good old pally',
And 'e only stands about so 'igh, that's all.

'E gets me on at skittles and 'e flukes,
And when 'e wants to 'e can use 'is 'dooks';
You see ‘im put 'em up, well there, it's great—
'E takes a bit of lickin' at 'is weight.
'E'll stick up like a Briton for 'is pals,
And ain't 'e just a terror with the gals.
I loves to see 'im cuttin' of a dash
A-walkin' down our alley on the mash.

Chorus: There, 'e's a little champion—
Do me proud—well 'e's a knockout;
I've knowed 'im take a girl on six foot tall.
'E'll get 'imself up dossy,
Say I'm going out wi' Flossie,
And 'e only stands about so 'igh, that's all.

I used to do a gin crawl ev'ry night,
An' very, very often come 'ome tight,
But now of all sich 'abits I've got rid;
I allus wants to get 'ome to the kid.
In teachin' 'im, I takes a reg'lar pride—
Not books of course, for them 'e can't abide,
But artful little ikey little ways
As makes the people sit up where we stays.

(Spoken) Only last Sunday me an' the missus took 'im out for a walk-I should say 'e took us out— As we was comin' 'ome I says to the old gal 'Let's pop into the "Broker's Arms" and 'ave a drop o' beer.'— She didn't raise no objection so in we goes followed by 'is nibs— I'd forgotten all about 'im— I goes to the bar and calls for two pots of four 'alf. Suddenly I feels 'im a-tuggin  at my coat. 'Wots up?' sez I. 'Wot did yer call for?' sez 'e-'Two pots of four 'alf,' sez I. 'Oh!' sez 'e, ''ain't mother goin' to 'ave none ?'

Chorus: Well 'e's a little champion—
Do me proud—well 'e's a knockout;
'Drink up,' sez 'e, 'Three pots, miss, it's my call.'
I sez, 'Now Jacky, Jacky!'
'E sez, 'and a screw of baccy.'
And 'e only stands about so 'igh, that's all.

Written and composed by Albert Chevalier and Charles Ingle - 1892
Performed by Albert Chevalier (1861-1923)
From monologues.co.uk Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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