You've heard about the latest fad,
That fills us with amaze,
I mean that silly fashion, called
The female whistling craze;
My wife is fairly on the job,
Although it's so absurd,
And all day long to my dismay,
She whistles like a bird.

Chorus: You should hear her whistling,
Drives me mad with her whistling,
She starts it in the evening,
And don't leave off till dawn;
You should hear her whistling,
Different kinds of whistling,
She whistles, 'Yankee Doodle',
And the 'Dead March in Saul!'

She never calls me by my name,
But treats we like a log,
For now she always whistles me,
As if I were a dog;
Last Sunday night we went to church,
And I with shame turned red,
For when the people sang the hymns,
She whistled 'em instead


She's known at all the pubs around,
For she wets her whistle now,
And if I want my meals at home.
It don't come off somehow;
I have to whistle for my grub,
And chirrup for a sip,
And they say we are the loveliest pair,
That ever 'cocked a lip!'


Written by Harry Randall & A.E. Ellis - Composed by Harry Randall - 1898
Performed by Harry Randall (1857 - 1932)
From Music Hall Lyrics Collection
home spaceA spaceB spaceC spaceD spaceE spaceF spaceG spaceH spaceI spaceJ spaceK spaceL spaceM spaceN spaceO spaceP spaceQ spaceR spaceS spaceT spaceU spaceV spaceW spaceX spaceY spaceZ