The Cause of All His Trouble.
Copyright, 1893, by Frank Harding.
Words and Music by Edward Barry.
Arranged by G. M. Rosenberg.
The other day while strolling out I met a dear old friend,
And he looked sad, dejected and forlorn;
You wouldn't give ten cents for the hat he had upon his head,
And the hair down 'round his ears it hung quite long.
he was walking on his uppers, no buttons on His coat,
And his paper collar had seen better days;
Ten cents to him I gave to go and get a shave,
And when he left I couldn't help but say;
He was as nice a fellow as e'er you'd want to meet,
A dollar in his pocket, always ready for to treat,
But now you'd pass him by for a tramp upon the street,
The cause of all his trouble is, he's married.
He fell in love with a pretty little dove and foolishly got wed,
Sorry was the day he said "I do";
And ever since that moment he wishes he were dead,
For now he is supporting a whole crew.
He's got relations by the score, a cross-eyed mother-in-law,
And they all drop in to spend a year or so;
They eat up all his grub, while he sleeps in a tub.
With a cruller in a bag to work he'll go. - Chorus.
Her sister is a widow, she has fourteen little kids,
And they've dropped in to pay a visit, too;
They broke up all his furniture, they're crying all the night,
And I don't think that they will ever go.
When he comes home at night, he never gets a bite,
For they gather round the table thick as flies;
He waits until they're done and then he gets a bun,
Out upon the fire-escape he lies.- Chorus.
Her brother took the only shirt he had upon his back,
Her nephew took his collars and his ties,
Her sister cut his trousers down to make pants for her kids,
All day Sunday now in bed he lies.
He's such a nice young man, they say they'll never go away;
They never will desert him till he's broke;
She has four brothers there, and they've loafed for a long year,
When he's bandy-legged from carrying up coke.-Chorus.
Her uncle came from Ireland, 'tis just one month ago;
Of course, he is too tired for to work;
He says he likes this country and be thinks he will write home,
And bring his wife And family out.
Last night he came from work, after struggling like a tnrk,
Hardly able for to lift his head,
When a greenhorn's baggage truck in front of his door was stuck,
Then he threw up his hands, and now he's dead.- Chorus.