American Old Time Song Lyrics: 46 Bill Baileys Hens

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 46

BILL BAILEY'S HENS.
Copyright, 1895, by Wheeler Brothers.
Words by H. G. Wheeler. Music by J. W. Wheeler.

Bill Bailey was a broker bold on Wall street in New York,
Securities he bought and sold, and gilt-edge railroad stock:
No race track, steam yacht, rod or gun for him had any charm,
His sole ambition was to run a fancy poultry farm. For-

Chorus.
'Twas such a peaceful life, free from all toil and strife;
As the roosters scratched and the chickens hatched,
He could rest his legs while hisi hens laid eggs,
And doze to their sweet "cutcadardy."

He bought a farm and bought, likewise, about a thousand liens,
And farmers flocked to feast their eyes on Bailey's high-toned pens,
With rugs and carpets on the floors, with roosts of polished brass,
Steam-heated nests and sliding doors and feedpans of cut glass. For-

Chorus.
'Twas such a peaceful life, free from all toil and strife;
As the roosters scratched and the chickens hatched,
He could rest his legs while his hens laid eggs,
And doze to their sweet "cutcadardy."

Bill fed his hens on cantaloupe and cream from one cow's milk,
Each egg was washed with toilet soap and then wrapp'd up in silk;
When orders from the city buyers for fresh killed fowls were booked,
He'd ask them over special wires how they would have them cooked? Oh-

Chorus.
'Twas such a peaceful life, free from all toil and strife;
As the roosters scratched and the chickens hatched,
He could rest his legs while his hens laid eggs,
And doze to their sweet "cutcadardy."

Two dollars each his eggs did cost before their shells grew cold,
And ev'ry feather his roosters lost stood Bill its weight in gold.
For thirteen months he run that farm, in regal, princely style,
And then he found, to his alarm, those hens had swamped his pile. But-

Chorus.
'Twas such a peaceful life, free from all toil and strife;
As the roosters scratched and the chickens hatched,
He could rest his legs while his hens laid eggs,
And doze to their sweet "cutcadarty."

About this time a setting hen set down a "live" wire,
Then squawking flew around the pen, her tail a blaze of fire,
And William's pens went up in smoke and left him penniless.
To-day he walks the town "dead broke," the picture of distress-. 'Tas-

Chorus.
Not such a peaceful life, not so much peace as strife,
And the dollars went to his last red cent,
And he'll jump on you like a kangaroo
If he hears you say "cutcadardy."