Copyright, 1888, by T. B. Harms & Co.
I sing of a feminine gender,
One whom I thought so divine,
Delicate, gentle and tender.
And hoping some day she'd be mine;
For op'ras this girl was crazy,
And opera singers as well,
For when I said be mine, she replied, I decline,
And the reason I quickly will tell.
She said at the Gaiety theatre,
There was the man of her choice,
Signor McStinger, a baritone singer,
With such a magnificent voice.
I tried with my voice to enchant her,
Tra la la la la la la.
But she said it won't fizz, yours is nothing like his
Tra la la la la la la la la.
Said I, darling, be not so silly,
Let me not live, dear, alone,
Smile on your own loving Billy,
Give up your big baritone;
I'll take lessons from Mr. Weldon,
If you say that you'll marry me,
Just wait for a year and I have no fear,
I'll warble as well then as he.-Chorus.
I've paid notes and gold for her daily,
Plainly I've stated my case,
In joke I have said to her gaily,
That my notes were good, his were bass;
But last night she pointedly told me.
My hopes and my wishes were vain,
So I'll go from the place, she shall ne'er see my face,
And I'll never be happy again.-Chorus.