(Neumy, neum, neum)
I am a bachelor, isn't it sad
Lasses ne'er loveth me, ain't it too bad
Hundreds of pretty girls daily I see
Yet there's not one of them will love me
There's a little beauty whom I often meet
She's such a dear, upon my word, I dote on her
She's a little Milliner in Exmouth Street
Oh that she were mine, oh

Chorus: Pretty lips sweeter than cherry or plum
Always look smiling, and never look glum
Seem to say, 'Come away, kissie, come, come
Neumy, neum, neumy, neum, neum, neum, neum

Why is it other men seemeth so blest
Plenty of pretty girls, petted, caressed
Though I smile lovingly when them I see
Yet there's not one of them will love me
But there's not a doubt that Master Cupid's dart
Has been fired by that fascinating Milliner
'Twasn't meant for me but it has pierced my heart
Oh would that she were mine Oh


Though not as good looking as when a young lad
I'm not at all ugly, although I look sad
My figure's as good as a fellow's can be
Yet there's not any girl will love me
Why am I permitted like a simple flower?
To whither and die in all my blooming youthfulness
Would that I were a fairy and possessed of power
To call that charmer mine, Oh


Can I ask any girl present I see?
To be so good as to take pity on me
Answer, I'm waiting, for what will it be?
No, there's not one of them will love me
Gracious goodness, what is it that makes me start
She's over there my pretty little Milliner
Sitting with a fellow too, oh my poor heart
I feel she'll ne'er be mine, No, no, no, no

Written and performed by Arthur Lloyd (1840-1904)
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