American Old Time Song Lyrics: 27 The Market On Saturday Night

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 27

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The Market on Saturday Night.
Copyright, 1888, by Wm. A. Pond & Co.
Words by Ed. Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham.

I'm a poor market woman, I do a fine trade.
Selling my goods at the stall;
A nate bit of money myself I have made
Where I sit with my back to the wall.

I sell turkeys and partridges, turnips and cabbages,
Crockery and tin ware so bright;
Parsnips and cresses, and little babe's dresses,
At the market on Saturday night.

The Mondays and Tuesdays and Fridays are fine,
Wednesdays and Thursdays are light;
But thousands of people they stand in a line
At the market on Saturday night.

We sell lemons and butter-beans, carrots and holly greens,
Celery, so crispy and white;
Pickles and chow-chow, and dogs that say bow-wow.
At the market on Saturday night.

In Summer or Winter, or when the wind blows,
Filling wid dust all our eyes;
In rain or in frost, or terrific snow.
We're shouting and yelling our cries.

We sell peanuts, bananas and Chinese Havanas,
It's really a beautiful sight;
It's oleomargarine, little pigs' crulieens,
At the market on Saturday night.
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