I took my girl to a fancy ball;
It was a social hop;
We waited till the folks got out,
And the music it did stop,
Then to a resteraunt we went,
The best one on the street;
She said she wasn't hungry,
But this is what she eat:
A dozen raw, a plate of slaw,
A chicken and a roast,
Some applesauce, some sparagrass,
And softshell crabs on toast,
A big box stew, and crackers too;
Her appetite was immense!
When she called for pie,
I thought I'd die,
For I had but fifty cents.
She said she wasn't hungry,
And didn't care to eat,
But I've got money in my clothes,
To bet she can't be beat,
She took it in so cozy,
Ahd had an aweful tank;
She said she wasn't thirsty,
But this is what she drank:
A whisky skin, a glass of gin,
Which made me shake with fear,
A ginger pop with rum on top,
A schooner then of beer,
A glass of ale, a gin cocktail;
She should have had more sense;
When she called for more,
I fell on the floor,
For I had but fifty cents.
Of course I wasn't hungry,
And didn't care to eat;
Expecting every moment
To be kicked into the street;
She said she'd fetch her family round,
And some night we'd have fun;
When I gave the man the fifty cents,
This is what he done:
He tore my clothes,
He smashed my nose,
He hit me on the jaw,
He gave me a prize
Of a pair of black eyes
And with me mopped the floor.
He took me where my pants hung loose,
And threw me over the fence;
Take my advice, don't try it twice
If you've got but fifty cents!
-Anonymous
