American Old Time Song Lyrics: 34 Ta Ra Ra Boom Der E

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

TA-RA-RA BOOM-DER-E.
Copyright, 1881, by Willis Woodward & Co.
Written by Henry S. Sayers.

A sweet Tuxedo girl you see,
Queen of swell society.
Fond of fun as fond can be.
When is on the strict Q. T.;
I'm not too voting, I'm not too old,
Not too timid, not too bold,
Just the kind you'd like to hold.
Just the kind for sport I'm told.

Chorus.
Ta-ra-ra boom-der-e, ta-ra-ra boom-der-e,
Ta-ra-ra boom-der-e, ta-ra-ra boom-der-e,
Ta-ra-ra boom-der-e, ta-ra-ra boom-der-e,
Ta-ra-ra boom-der-e, ta-ra-ra boom-der-e.

I'm a blushing bud of innocence,
Papa says at big expense;
Old maids say I have no sense;
Boys declare I'm just immense;
Before my song I do conclude,
I want, it strictly understood,
Tho' fond of fun, I'm never rude;
Tho' not too bad, I'm not too good.- Chorus.

Encore Verses (By Lew Hawkins).
I'll sing a little song, it won't take long;
If I sing it wrong why ring the gong,
Then I will say to you, So long.
And start at once for Old Hong Kong.
Then a tear to my eye 'twill surely bring,
And I'll call you a saucy thing,
Then for the patrol you all may ring.
And hear the copper sweetly sing: - Chorus.

Played a little poker the other night
With a jay I thought I had all right.
The hand I held was out of sight;
I held them close, I held them tight.
The hand I held contained four kings;
I bet all my stuff on the pretty things,
But the Rube at me four aces flings;
He copped my stuff and gently sings:-Chorus.

A jay came in from Buffalo,
Who long had let his whiskers grow;
They were white as the driven snow;
They were great for the wind you know.
He was no Yank; he was a Jew;
He sold old clothes in Kalamazoo;
He was fond of music that was new.
So the wind played this as it passed through. - Chorus.

I called on my uncle at his farm;
Of course, to call there was no harm;
But the country has for me no charm.
In weather cold or weather warm.
My uncle has a goat, a lively flea.
But the goat and I could never agree;
As he chased me up against a true.
He sang this song as he gave it to me:- Chorus.

In '92 there'll be a race,
With Ben and Grover to set the pace;

I wonder who will get the place;
For the White House chair there'll be a chase,
But a horse may win that comes from Maine,
A horse who's been out in the rain;
A candidate he'll be again.
So you want to look out for old Jim Blaine.- Chorus.