American Old Time Song Lyrics: 39 You Cant Expect Them Always To Agree

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 39

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YOU CAN'T EXPECT THEM ALWAYS TO AGREE.
Copyright, 1893, by I. Prager.
Words by L. J. Pollak. Music by B. D. Ackley.

Now when you come to think of it how strange it does appear.
When you have spent a jolly night filled up on wine and beer;
You get to bed, you know not how, you feel as on the sea,
Then you wonder why your stomach and your head cannot agree.

Chorus.
But you can't expect them always to agree,
No, you can't expect them always to agree;
Now, perhaps, the head was jealous while the stomach was quite galous,
So you can't expect them always to agree.

When you read the sporting papers, pick the winners by the score,
When you're sure out of six races you have surely five or more;
But the lead pipe cinch is hollow and you of your cash are free,
Do you wonder, my dear fellow, why the winners don't agree

Chorus.
But you can't expect them always to agree,
For the best of us are wrong at times, you see;
Why, of course, you knew the winner now you'll go without your dinner,
Just because the blamed things always don't agree.

Young chappie smokes his first cigar and finds it "fine, deah boy;"
He ne'er before had known the weed contained such wond'rous joy;
But after smoking for a while a changed lad is he-
With cigarettes he's quite content, cigars do not agree.

Chorus.
But you can't expect the first one to agree.
Though 'tis fine, deah boy, ejaculated he;
That cigar was much too strong for his feeble constitution,
But with all you can't expect them to agree.

When you get into a crowded car and luck'ly got a sent,
You do not mind if some one sometimes treads upon your feet;
But if you from your cushion rise to seat a lady fair,
If she thanks you, well and good, my friend; if not, why, don't despair.

Chorus.
For you can't expect her always to agree,
Though you think that you are just as good as she:
She is doing you a favor by accepting of your scat, sir,
But you can't expect her always to agree.

You go out with a customer-at least your wife thinks so,
And to pass away the evening to her mother she will go;
But if she steps into the car and sees you're on a spree
With your pretty little typewriter, you can bet she won't agree.

Chorus.
But you can't expect her always to agree,
No, you can't expect her always to agree;
You left her home, of course, now she'll sue for a divorce,
For you can't expect her always to agree.

You order of your grocer to send some fresh-laid eggs,
Insisting on their freshness, he your pardon humbly begs;
The hen has laid them just this day, you II find them good, says he;
You get them home and open one, but you don't quite agree.

Chorus.
And he can't expect you always to agree.
The eggs were fresh when laid, insisted he;

But the hen that laid that score had been dead a month or more.
So he can't expect you always to agree.

Of course, to poker I must give a verse to please the cranks,
Who never tire of telling how they break each other's bank,
But when they hold four aces and bet till they can't see,
The quiet man rakes in the cash, a higher hand has he.

Chorus.
But you can't expect them always to agree.
No, you can't expect them always to agree;
That quiet man agreed to raise until the shouter stopped the pace,
But you can't expect them always to agree.

When you take a damsel for a walk upon a summer day.
She's bound to see what others wear as they abroad do stray;
But should you likewise turn your head the fashions for to see,
'Tis then you'll find that damsel's views and yours do not agree.

Chorus.
But you can't expect their, always to agree,
Of course, you can't expect them to agree;
She just turned to view a skirt while your view was clear to flirt.
So you can't expect them ever to agree.

When our good friend Hayseed Johnny comes to "teown" to see the sights.
And with his verdure innocence at each seeming "good thing" bits,
You cannot blame him if with Bunco Bill he's on the spree,
When he's hauled in by a blue-coat with the "teown" he don't agree.

Chorus.
And you can't expect old uncle to agree,
Ger Gosh, mister, all my money's gone, says he;
And the cop for a reply taps him lightly on the sly,
Why, you can't expect him always to agree.
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E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III