Tommy, Make Room for Your Uncle.
Fred Jones, hatter, of Leicester Square,
Presents -himself to you-
And you may guess, when he is dress'd,
Of girls lie knows a few;
A widow fell in love with him,
While riding in a train.
She had a blessed boy with her,
Who caus'd us both much pain.
Spoken-Yes, the confounded young urchin caused me a great
deal of pain and sorrow, and the widow, his mother, introduced
me to him as his uncle! Fred Jones was never an uncle before,
and will never be again, not if he knows it! And the whole of
the journey the mother said to the boy:
"Tommy, make room for your uncle,
There's a little dear;
Tommy, make room for your uncle,
I want him to sit here ;
You know mamma, has got a bun,
And that she'll give to you,
So don't annoy, there's a good boy,
Make room for your uncle, do.
When first I met the firm of Green,
'Twas on my journey down,
To spend a day at Rosherville,
"Just like a swell from town;"
The widow loved romantic scenes,
And a squeeze on the sly,
But when my arm went 'round her waist.
The boy began to cry!
Spoken-He declared I was hurting his mamma, and would
insist on sitting between us. Only fancy making love to a girl
with a boy in the way. But she said to him, in a voice so
The mother told her loving son,
To watch the passing train,
But. no, he said, "My Uncle Fred
Will kiss your hand again;" *
The widow blushed, a maiden blush,
And I was not myself.
For who could make love oh a seat,
In front of that young elf?
Spoken-Yes, it would never do to make love before the boy,
and the widow said: " Not before the boy, Fred, not before the
boy." Just then we went under a tunnel, and she said:-Chorus.
In a snug retreat at Rosherville,
I went down on my knees,
And asked, if she would fly with me,
Across the bright blue seas?
She sighed, and said: " You wicked man!
But how about the child?"
And clasped him fondly to her breast,
While I the agony piled!
Spoken-I said: " My lovely of all lovely beings, let us fly to
some foreign clime, where I will protect you and your boy."
She answered, and said: " How about my little pfe-shop in the
Bowery?" "Oh! Bloomsbury! Do you keep a pie-shop?"-Chorus.