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Kind friends, I crave your precious time, my conscience for to ease,
And if your hearts are not as cold as July bumblebees;
And when you hear my story out, for sympathize you can,
To hear the doleful wailings of a broken hearted man.
When I returned that afternoon, my better half to miss,
And when I asked the children they answered Tis, Sis, Sis;
I nearly lost my temper, for my mind was in a fury,
To think my wife should run away while I was on the jury.
I was summoned as a juryman, a heavy case to try,
Where Dunn's bulldog Towser nearly ate a little boy;
And I wish he had to fix the job when he got in the maul,
Suspenders, boots and overalls, long rubbers, socks and all.
I searched the house upstairs and down, but not a soul came nigh,
I cried out Emma darling are you hiding on the sly?
And not an answer did I hear to make my heart beat smart,
I then got very pious on a piece of home-made tart.
I knew a chap her eye was on to ruin my joyful life,
A Frenchman called Morriarity, for he walked off with my wife;
And I'd fight him to a finish if his face I chance to see,
Suppose I have to walk on stilts by land to Sante Fe.
And when I asked the little ones in language rather loud,
I had to stoop my pimple to escape such flying cloud;
For china dogs and candlesticks flew 'round my head with fear,
While sniffles and old tablespoons did carom on my ear.
Published in Burke's Ballads, pp.30-31, 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 A Dictionary Of Slang And Unconventional English, 8th edition, 1982, by Eric Partridge [1894-1979], edited by Paul Beale, page 884, Pimple - def. 2: head: 19th century to early 20th century (1900-1930).
