Hi! Waiter, a Dozen More Bottles
Copyright, 1887, by V. Harding.
Lovely woman was made to be loved,
To be fondled and courted And kissed;
And the fellows who've never made love to a girl. Well, they don't know what fun they have missed.
I'm a fellow who's up to the times,
Just the boy for a lark or a spree;
There's a chap that's dead stuck on the women and wine,
You can bet your old boots that it's me.
Hi! waiter, a dozen more bottles.
Let's give the ladies a jolly good spree:
My dad was a boodler, so let her go Gallagher,
Hang the expense, put it all down to me.
I'm beginning to think I'm tight,
Though I think I've room for one yet;
I'm afraid my cigar was a little too strong,
So, old man, give me one cigarette.
Now I feel I'm as good as a king;
Come along, have a "hooker" with me,
My eyes magnify, there's but one I know well,
But of waiters I see sixty-three.-Chorus.
There's my wife I've not seen for a year,
And she has not seen me for a week;
There's the children I love but I have not got one,
I will tell something else when I speak.
I am drunk, I am forced to admit,
But it is not my fault that I am,
'Tis the fault of the waiter, who's awfully slow,
In serving the nectar called Cham. - Chorus.