#02844
Oh, My Goodie Gracious (Johnny Burke)

Oh, herself Anastatia felt mopish and queer,
She hadn't been well, I should say, for a year;
The bright healthy color is gone from her cheek,
And it's only just once in a year that she'll speak.
The dark heavy vapor now hangs o'er her eye,
She'll fret and she'll sob,
and she'll heave a deep sigh;
Her features are thin and her face is so small,
Through the dents in her cheeks
you can see a drop ball.

Oh, my goodie gracious, have pity on me,
Oh, is there no cure for this neuralgia?
Oh me! Oh my! Oh mercy, my law,
I'm afraid I'll go wild with this pain in me jaw.

Her face, once so plump, is now sallow and pale,
Her jaws are as thin as a bumble bee's tail;
Her health is broke down and so wretched she feels,
That fourteen crubeens are enough at a meal.
It's only some dainty she has in her sight,
A plate of cold cabbage or something that's light;
A can of corn beef or a dish of boiled rice,
Or a dumplin' so soggy it would kill a man twice.

Oh, my goodie gracious, have pity on me,
Oh, is there no cure for this neuralgia?
Oh me! Oh my! Oh mercy, my law,
I'm afraid I'll go wild with this pain in me jaw.

From worry and care and for want of rest,
You can stow forty butter tubs under my vest;
And my voice is as weak as that two year old pup,
That you'd think 'twas
a Valentine box they'd dug up.
My jaws are so thin and my form is so spare,
You could back me to trot
against Druken's old mare;
If the wind freshened up and I stood by the door,
I'd be out in New Jersey before half past four.

Oh, my goodie gracious, have pity on me,
Oh, is there no cure for this neuralgia?
Oh me! Oh my! Oh mercy, my law,
I'm afraid I'll go wild with this pain in me jaw.

Now young men take a warning from me,
I'll be bound,
Don't marry a girl if her grinders ain't sound;
If her tombstones are bad
she'll soon let you know that,
When she'll start in G sharp
and drop down to B flat.
Both night and day time she'll worry your life,
I pity the man with a cross, peevish wife;
So I think the best way to open the ball,
Let them stay with their ma's
and don't mind them at all.

####.... Johnny Burke [1851-1930] of St John's, NL, 1902 ....####
Published in Burke's Ballads, p.53, c.1960, compiled by John White and archived at Memorial University of Newfoundland, Libraries, Centre For Newfoundland Studies - Digitized Books collection.

See more songs by Johnny Burke.

From the Dictionary of Newfoundland English:
Crubeen - pig's trotter; especially the hock prepared for food by pickling.



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