Demon Drink and Teetotalism view21
SITE SOURCE: Sydney Folklore – SECTION 9: Demon drink and teetotalism
I took my love to a hall one night—it was a social hop,’
We stayed until the dance was o’er, till the music it did stop,
And then we went to a restaurant—the finest in the street.
She said she wasn’t hungry, but this is what she ate;
A lobster claw, a beefsteak raw,
Some pickle and some toast,
Apple sars, asparagus,
Some corn’d beef and Lorne roast,
Irish stew, trotters too—
Her appetite was immense!
When she holler’d for pie I thought I’d die
For I had but Eighteen Pence.
You bet I wasn’t hungry—I didn’t care to eat—
Expecting every moment to be thrown out in the street,
She said she wasn’t thirsty, but she had an awful tank,
For after eating all those things, this is what she drank;
A whisky skin, a glass of gin—
She made me shake with fear—
Some ginger pop, rum on top,
And a great big glass of beer;
A gin cocktail, a glass of ale—
She ought to have had more sense;
When she called for more I fell on the floor
For I bad but Eighteen Pence.
She ate and drank two hours or more—
I wished that I was dead;
Or I wished I could fall through the floor—
I began to swim in the head.
She said she’d bring her family round some day and have some fun.
I gave the man the Eighteen Pence, and this is what he done:
Ha broke my nose, he tore my clothes,
He hit me in the jaw ;
He gave me a prize of a pair of black eyes,
And with me wiped the floor ;
He caught me where my pants hung loose
And threw me over the fence.
Take my advice, don’t try it twice
If you have but Eighteen Pence.