American Old Time Song Lyrics: 34 Get Your Hair Cut

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 34

GET YOUR HAIR CUT.
Copyright, 1891, by T. B. Harms & Co.
Words written and music arranged by H. H. Janseen.
Sung by George Beauchamp.

I came across from London town a week ago to-day,
To-morrow I go back again, I can no longer stay;
My hair in London was all the style-in fact, was raved about,
but here I'd hardly touched the soil when I heard some one shout:

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Or the wind will breeze and blow
Thro' those locklets, don't cher know;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut.
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.

Of course, this made me very mad, I knew they yelled at me,
So in a cab I quickly jumped, but there I wasn't free,
For cabby on his box up high I could hear very plain,
And every time he'd bit the horse he'd sing the same refrain:

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
oh! but mamma he's a beaut',
Flowing locks and striped suit;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.

I stopped up at a swell hotel, the clerk was mild and bland;
Gave me a room nine stories high, but that I would not stand;
We had a scrap, he yelled out, "Front," just throw his lilacs out,
And when my grip came after me, each "Front" began to shout:

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
He is mamma's pretty boy,
Dearest little Fountleroy;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.

Of course, this drew up quite a crowd, to them I told my tale;
A policeman came along just then and lugged me off to jail;
I fought him, nearly all the way, but he was very strong,
And all the way that dreadful mob just kept up this same song:

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut.
Do them up in papers, dear.
And they won't look half so queer;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.

Next day they took me into court and charged me with the crime
Of blocking up a public street for hours at a time;
Now, lilacs, said the judge to me, just trim your window mop;
I'll let you off, here's thirty cents, go find a barber-shop.

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Save a locklet, dear, for me,
That I may remember thee;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.

I left the court resolved to go to London that same day.
As every one was down on me, though why I couldn't say;

For just as I was coming here I passed a parrot store,
The moment they caught sight of me each bird began to roar:

Chorus.
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
And then every bird would shout.
Does your mother know your out;
Get your hair cut, get your hair cut,
Let the barber have a chance, dear boy.