'Twill All Come Out in the Wash.
Copyright, 1886, by Chas. D. Blake & Co.
I've a neat little song that I'll sing you to-night,
Of the things that we find in the wash;
Every day as we rub and we scrub in the tub.
And we splutter away with a splash.
You may talk of the castles you build in the air,
And the wonders that stiffen the roots of your hair,
But there's never a one that will ever compare
With the things that come out of the wash.
With a rub, rub, rubbity rub,
And a scrub, scrub, scrubbity scrub,
In your tub, tub, tubbity tub.
The things that come out of the wash.
There's many a thing that we're sure to And,
That often comes out in the wash;
Like the vote of an alderman gentle and kind,
You would think that he came from Oshkosh.
He will give you his vote for your dollars And cents,
And grant you the gift of a railroad immense,
But the blessed a word about any expense
Until it comes out in the wash.-Chorus.
In politics, too, it is awfully true,
The reform that we hear is all bosh;
Oh! show me the man that is "square" if you can,
And who hasn't come out of the wash.
The Democrats say they are heartily glad
That the rascals are out, *but it's a pity, bedad!
That the one is no letter and the other as bad,
And the both of them need a good wash.-Chorus.
Did you ever come home to a pic-nic at night,
And stumble up stairs with a crash;
With a strange maiden's hair on your coatlet so bare,
And your pocket-book hungry for cash?
Your wife she will say, with a cynical smile:
"Oh! don't brush it off, dear, *I presume it's Vie style ;
Pray, make no excuse, sir, it isn't worth while,
Perhaps 'twill come out in the wash." -Chorus.
Have you read of the things that occur in the bank,
Of Jerry and Jimmy, and Josh;
And the frolicsome "Ashes" that go to the tank
For to have a mod swim in the wash?
When a fellow does wrong, how the papers will yell,
But the judge he will sigh and sadly say-* " Well,
Oh! let the poor fellow skedaddle to---,
Some day he'll come back for a wash!" -Chorus.
There's a new-fangled craze that we see now-a-days.
As the whip goes a swishity swash;
And the maiden will cry to her coachman: "Oh, my!
Come take me out, love, for a dash"
Her papa will storm in a terrible rage.
But the maiden will say-* "I guess Im of age!"
And off she will skip and she'll go on the stage,
And never come back for a wash.-Chorus.
I've lived in a boarding-house many a day,
Where they fed me on something called "hash;"
And believe me or not, but 'tis true what I say,
It was tough as the bark of an ash.
I always supposed 'twas a great myster-ee,
Until it arose and it said unto me:
*"I'm the thing they're using to set Ireland free!
And I'll never come out in the wash." - Chorus.
Now there is the preacher you hear in the church,
And often he is preaching you bosh;
For sure he's a screecher And seldom a teacher
Of the things that come out in the wash.
You may go through this world on a beautiful search,
But the lesson you've hunted way up in the church,
*That very same preacher has left in the lurch,
And 'twill all come out in the wash.-Chorus.
The maiden you meet on the street very neat,
Is the darling that's out for the "mash;"
She is beautifully bright in the glare of the light,
Tis the way that she uses the wash.
Her cheeks are as red and as ripe as a rose,
And her eyebrows are jet-*at least, we suppose-
But indeed they are false, as everyone knows,
And you bet they'll come out in the wash.-Chorus.
Now my song it is done, and it isn't much fun
To pick out such things from the wash;
(Holds up black baby.)
But here is a caulker for Miss Mary Walker,
Oh, dearie, it looks like a squash.
I haven't a place for the poor little lad,
And the nary a one can I find for his dad;
*Won't nobody have him f he looks pretty bud,
It's a pity, I'll give him a wash.-Chorus.
I presume you have read of some Generals of note,
Of princes and that kind of bosh;
But show me the one like our George Washington,
Who could wipe them all out with a swash.
And where is the man that can walk in the track
Of the ones we have lost who will never come back;
*Like Hancock and Grant, and our brave little Mac,
The boys that have passed through the wash?-Chorus.
Now here is a thing, you can wager your life.
That has passed through the fire and the flash;
It has lived through the battle of many a strife,
And has never yet needed a wash.
'Tis the flag of our Union, that freedom has cast
To shelter her sons from the first to the last;
And you bet that the colors are solid and fast.
And will never come out in the wash.-Chorus.
*The words with an asterisk (*) should be spoken.