HE MARRIED THE DAUGHTER MOTHER AND ALL.
Copyright, MDCCCXCIV, by Henry J. Wehman.
Words and Music by Harry S. Miller.
There's a young friend of mine who persistently says
His wife is an angel divine;
But, oh, the mistake you surely would make
To take her for one of this kind.
He longs to be out with the boys every nigh'
Yet seldom he gets out alone;
But when he does, an old friend does buzz,
To square it for him at his home.
For he married the daughter, the mother And all-
Sister and brother they don't work at all.
In all kinds of weather he keeps them together-
He can't do no better, for he married them all.
I have met him but lately, when not on the street,
With a load he hardly could pull,
And said, with a sigh, 'gone home bye and bye,
They can't hurt me much when I'm full.
Now, first it's the mother that gets on to him,
Then daughter, the pride of his heart.
First home he does send some honest old friend
Before be dares to make the start.-Chorus.
Now, sometimes he can scarcely just tell how be feels,
And trembles to think what's in store;
No caresses, by far, but says that there are-
I know what has happened before.
To gather up courage and boldly go home,
He gets it in every saloon,
Then tarts with a grin, they're waiting for him
With sledge-hammers down to a broom.- Chorus.