The Broken-Hearted Milkman.
I'm a broken-hearted milkman, in grief I am arrayed.
Through keeping the company of a young servant maid,
Who lived on board wages a house to keep clean,
In a gentleman's family near Arlington Green.
Her eyes were as black as the seeds of a pear,
No rose in the garden with her cheeks could compare,
Her hair hung in ringlets so beautiful and long,
I thought that she loved me, but I found that I was wrong.
"When I'd call in the morning and cry milk below,
At the sound of my milk cans her face she would show,
With a smile on her countenance, a laugh in her eve,
If I thought that she loved me, I'd lay down And die.
When I asked her to marry me, she said, oh, what stuff,
And told me to drop it, for she'd had quite enough
Of my nonsense, at the same I'd been very kind,
But to marry a milkman she didn't feel inclined.
The man that gets me must have silver and gold,
A chariot to ride in, be handsome and bold.
His hair must be curly as any watch-spring,
And his whiskers as big as a brush for clothing.
These words that she uttered went straight through my heart,
I sobbed and I sighed, and forthwith did depart,
With a tear on my eyelids as big as a bean,
Bidding good-bye to Polly and Arlington Green.
In two months she married, this hard hearted girl,
It was not a viscount, it was not an earl,
It was not a baronet, but several shades worse,
'Twas a bow-legged conductor of a two penny 'bus.