Gilhooly, Your Coat is Half-Mast.
Written and sung by James O'Neil.
You've heard of O'Brien from Harlem,
And the man with the high-water pants,
But to me, sure, they can't hold a caudle,
And for "mashing" they stand a poor chance.
I wear the best clothes that's imported
From Paris, across the blue say.
By all the fine girls I am courted,
I'm too handsome to live they all say.
For the girls they all call me a daisy,
And they say I am too sweet to last;
They tell me to get out a patent,
"Gilhooley, your coat is half-mast,"
One night, sure, I went to a raffle,"
Dressed tip in my best Sunday clothes,
When I entered they all commenced laughing,
Get on to that face, " Holy Mose."
They say that my coat was a "Seymour,"
And that I was living too fast;
They said that I looked like a mummy,
A well-preserved thing of the past. - Chorus.
You will find me at balls and at parties,
I lead every march and the dance,
Sure I can play croquet and billiards,
I bent Sexton and Vignaux in France.
I own my own yachts And fast horses,
I am neither too slow nor two fast,
But whenever I pass they all halloo
"Gilhooley, your coat is half-mast.