The Face upon the Barroom Floor.
Copyright, MDCCCXCIV. by Henry J. Wehman.
Words and Music by .I. P. Skelly.
The summer eve was balmy and a goodly crowd was there,
Which well nigh filled the barroom on the corner of the square;
And as the songs and stories came upon the twilight air,
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed with wistful air.
"A drink!" he cried, "that's what I want -I'm but an artist poor-
Once I was rated clever and my fortune seemed secure,
But never mind the happy past, the days I'll see no more-
Just let me draw a face I knew upon this barroom floor!"
The face upon the barroom floor, she whom I did adore.
On her fell no blame till a false friend came and entered our cottage door.
Look down at sweet Madeline, forever my heart's bright queen;
That face from my heart nevermore shall depart, the face upon the barroom floor.
"Fill up again, mine host," he said;" put life into my frame;
I'll tell you how it came about, my ruin and my shame:
The picture of a bosom friend, with skill, I painted well:
She, gazing on the dreamy eyes, asked me his name to tell.
I brought him to our cottage door and he lured her from my side,
And with his prey he safely sped across the ocean wide.
You ask me why I drink, and why I'm ragged, rough and poor?
Just look upon that woman's face upon the barroom floor!" Chorus.
"Good friend, another drink, I pray-one more before we part;
I'll draw another picture of the face that's in my heart.
Perhaps it seems unlikely that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman or expect, her to love me."
He drained his glass, and, chalk in hand, began again to trace
The shapely lines of beauty of that unforgotten face;
Then, turning 'round with wild eyes they would wish to see no more,
With dying shriek he fell across the face upon the floor." Chorus.