American Old Time Song Lyrics: 47 Cinderella Song

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 47

CINDERELLA SONG,
Copyright, 1894, by T. B. Harms & Co.
Words by J. Cheever Goodwin. Music by Woolson Morse.

Oh, poor Cinderella was a maid forlorn,
With two proud sisters as beautiful as day,
Who snubbed her and treated her with utmost scorn,
In a highly unbecoming way.
Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, we pray;
In silks and in satins, at the king's behest,
To the royal ball they gaily drove away;
While poor Cinderella, who in rags was dressed,
Was told that she at home must stay;
But soon her fairy god mamma
Appeared, and by her magic wand,
Clad her in garments richer far
Than mortal e'er had donned.

Chorus.
Oh, weren't her sisters spiteful, and wouldn't a be delightful
If we could have a godmamma like poor, dear Cinderella;
Some kind-hearted fairy, when things went contrary.
To do the thing that was rightful, with a magic wand
She'd but to wave to give us all we might crave;
Oh, don't we wish that our godmamma was a big, big, big, big fairy.

Arrayed, like a princess, in her garments fine,
With jewels bright, Cinderella now appears;
Her eyes, with astonishment and pleasure, shine.
That a moment since were dim with tears.
Go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, we pray;
Her godmother next supplies the coach she needs
From a pumpkin huge, Cinderella thinks it strange;
A wave of her wand, and in a trice, its seeds
To a coachman and a footman change;
Then six white mice within a trap,
To Cinderella's great amaze,
She quickly changes, by a tap,
To prancing dappled grays.

Chorus.
Oh, wasn't she sagacious; we wish, to goodness gracious,
That we could have a "turn-out" grand like poor, dear Cinderella;
When we took an airing, setting people staring:
Oh, that would be just Splendacious; you can he quite sure
We'd make our mark, as we tooled through street and park;
Oh, don't we wish that our god mamma was a big, big, big, big fairy.

When once Cinderella at the ball appears,
The prince falls head over heals, with her, in love;
In vain are her jealous sisters' sneers and jeers,
For he finds her fair as stars above:
Go on, go on, go on, go on, no on, we pray;
To her he devotes himself the evening through;
When she left at twelve, as the fairy said she ought,
And dropped, in her hasty flight, her dainty shoe,
For its owner far and near he sought;
To prove to him the shoe was theirs,
In vain the naughty sisters tried;
"'Tis Cinderella's," he declares,
And she becomes his bride.

Chorus.
Oh, wasn't that romantic? with joy we'd all go frantic
If we could only find a prince like poor, dear Cinderella;
For our hand to sue us, and to sweetly woo us,
Oh, that would be just gigantic; we would grow at least

A foot with pride if he chose us for his bride;
Oh, don't we wish that our godmamma was a big, big, big, big fairy.