There's gals from London, gals from Paris, gals from Tennessee,
But lovely gals from hanywhere is the sort of gal for me;
I loves 'em hall, both short and tall 'an I've 'ad a mash or two,
But I never felt my 'eart go out, as it goes out girls to you.

Chorus: You are a tasty lot!
Oh! you are! Yuss you are!
Ah! what a pity, Salt Lake City,
Ain't this very spot.

I'm just about the nicest chap you'd meet in a long day's march,
And if hever I puts on frills at all, they're warranted free of starch.
I'm down on the haristocracy, tho' I ham a bit of a toff,
I turned hup my nose at a duchess once, 'cos her hancestry was ho0ff!


You're lucky, gals, to come across a cove with a 'eart like mine,
It's a sort of a kind of elastic, so you need none of you repine;
It gently beats but when it meets with a sympathetic crowd
It wants 'em to 'eat the 'tick, tick', ain't it ticking nice and loud?

Written and composed by Albert Chevalier & Alfred H. West - 1897
Performed by Albert Chevalier (1861-1923)
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