American Old Time Song Lyrics: 42 The Four Hundred

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 42

THE FOUR HUNDRED.
Copyright, 1890, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Edward Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham.

We're leaders of the great "Four Hundred,"
Representing gilded swelldom,
Youth and beauty with its millions,
Moving in the maze of lovely belle-dom,
The choicest of the upper-tendom,
Ornamenting fashion's bowers.
Jewels scintillating, culture permeating!
Our "Four Hundred." don't you know.
We list to the strains of the hand, so grand,
As we drive through the park four-in-hand-in hand!
Horses gaily prancing, pretty girls a-glancing!
It's really a delightful show.
We're out for the bracing air; don't stare!
We're free from the thought of care; ah, there!
Everybody laughing! everybody chatting!
We're the great "Four Hundred," don't you know!

Chorus.
We're leaders of the great "Four Hundred,"
Ornamenting fashion's bowers.
Jewels scintillating! culture permeating!
Our "Four Hundred," don't you know!

We're famous for our entertainments,
Positively brilliant hours:
Beauties just as sweet as rosebuds,
Circled in a vale of lovely flowers!
We revel in the gay cotillion,
Oscillating dreamy waltzes.
Music captivating, laughter agitating!
Our "Four Hundred," don't you know!
Oh, who has not heard of the Four-the Four?
At home or abroad, we adore-adore!
The fads of tickle fashion, really, 'tis a passion
To follow up the hounds. Tally-ho!
Oh, there goes the fox, hi away-away!
We dash whip and spur to the fray-hooray!
Horses madly rushing!
Country people staring!
The great "Four Hundred," don't you know!- Chorus.

In winter, when the snow is falling,
Pretty little sleigh-bells jingling;
Cuddled in a robe so cosey,
Harmonizing voices sweetly mingling,
Dashing through silvery snowflakes,
Merry twinkling lights are beaming.
Hands are clapping!
And the whips are snapping!
That's our "Four Hundred," don't you know!
Oh, now for the dance Militaire-ah, there!
We move with a step debonaire-so rare!
Colonel Melancholy, dance with Misess Folly!
The lady with the coal black hair.
And now we fall in line-to dine!
And drink of the sparkling wine-so fine!
Hark! the corks are popping!
Fun is never stopping!
The great "Four Hundred," don't you know!- Chorus,