The Missus Is Always the Boss,
Written and Composed by Albert Hall.
Man was made the master of creation, so 'tis said,
But he wasn't made matter of his missus,
Though he may be a boss all day, but when he goes to bed
He's only second fiddle to his missus;
Though she's quite a charming fay, when it's nearly Saturday,
And her husband then will smother up with kisses;
If he only dares to speak through the middle of the week,
Who is it bites his head off? why the missus.
For the missus is boss of the shanty, the missus is captain there.
Cock of the walk, by a very long chalk, while curling the old man's hair;
She is the gaffer upon the job, and of time it will take little loss.
To find she's the crew and the captain, too, And always the muster's boss.
A newly married man, Fred Turner, and a pal o' mine,
Last evening took a walk without his missus,
And in the park he came across a creature so divine,
That quickly he forgot he had a misses;
Then he "sqooze" her tiny waist, and her ruby lips did taste,
"Now at last," he murmured, "I know what true bliss is,"
Going round a corner sharp, he gave a dreadful start.
For right in front of him he saw his missus. -Chorus.
Though her jaw sometimes is troublesome, and we're inclined to curse,
I wonder what we'd do without a missus;
For when by sickness we're laid low, and want a gentle nurse,
It's then we learn the value of a missus;
Though she often curls our hair, yet, still we must be fair,
She's a blessing in disguise, and my best wish is-
Of the gifts the fates disburse, you may never get a worse,
Then a gentle, kind and loving little missus.- Chorus.