You wouldn't believe what I went through,
On the night of my debut;
I mouched about for an hour or two for my turn.
I knocked up a hat from an old door-mat,
And bunged up my left eye,
And there I stuck like a bricklayer's truck,
Till I heard someone cry...

Chorus: You're next, you're next, oh dear! oh lor!
I hopped on quick, when a part of a brick
Came wallop on my jaw.
I aint no saint but I felt vexed,
When the drum went bang and the manager sang,
It's your turn next.

One night I wanted a shave and crop,
So in I popped to a barber's shop.
The shop was full so I had to stop for my turn;
I got the blues, read the news
For about an hour or so.
And just as I was about to guy,
The barber said to me...

Chorus: You're next, you're next, oh dear! oh lor!
The other man raved for he hadn't been shaved
For twenty years or more.
He yelled, I'm killed and I felt vexed,
When the man dropped dead and the barber said,
It's your turn next.

A month ago alas, alack,
I got on the track of a girl in black.
She winked at me and I wunk back in my turn;
In a pub we turned, then I learned
She'd buried number three;
She dried her eyes and to my surprise,
Sweetly said to me...

Chorus: You're next, you're next, oh dear! oh lor!
Into church we guyed, the knot was tied
And I was number four.
Bye-bye, she'll cry, when she, gets vexed,
The other three were killed by me...
And it's your turn next.

Written, composed and performed by Tom Woottwell (1865-1941)
From Music Hall Lyrics Collection
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