American Old Time Song Lyrics: 49 On Duty

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 49

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Copyright, 1895, by Frank Harding
Words and Music by Bob Emmet.

Some people think a policeman's life quite easy on his beat,
They little know the terrors that they meet upon the street;
A cry for help, p'raps murder, is a thing we of I times hear.
Whilst ye are safely in your homes with those you love most dear.

Here on my beat In the darkness of night,
Guarding your homes without fear 'till daylight,
Braving all dangers, in defense I will fight,
And still do my duty like a policeman.

I ofttimes miss a bullet as I'm going on my round,
And very oft a pal of mine's laid out upon the ground.
What noise is that-'tis a burglar; I'll stop the thieving cur-
Now, who goes there? no answer-you are my prisoner.- Chorus.

'Tis midnight now, no telling what the danger I might face,
For I've been warned all day to keep strict watch upon this place;
Now all is silent on my beat, there's treachery, I fear-
Take care' ah! yes, my time has come-a bullet struck me here.

Here on my beat in the darkness of night,
Like a dog left to die. with no help in sight.
I'm wanted, I know, give me strength and I'll fight,
And still do my duty like a policeman.
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