Oh! Mr Porter
Lately I just spent a week with my old Aunt Brown,
Came up to see the wond'rous sights of famous London Town.
Just a week I had of it, all round the place we'd roam,
Wasn't I sorry on the day I had to go back home?
Worried about with packing, I arrived late at the station,
Dropped my hat-box in the mud, the things all fell about,
Got my ticket, said 'good-bye', "Right away!" the guard did cry,
But I found the train was wrong, And shouted out:
Oh! Mister Porter, what shall I do?
I want to go to Birmingham
And they're taking me on to Crewe.
Send me back to London as quickly as you can,
Oh! Mister Porter, what a silly girl I am.
The porter would not stop the train, but laughed and said "You must
Keep your hair on, Mary Ann, and mind that you don't bust!"
Some old gentleman inside declared that it was hard,
Said, "Look out of the window, Miss, and try and call the guard."
Didn't I, too, with all my might, I nearly balanced over,
But my old friend grasped my leg, and pulled me back again,
Nearly fainting with the fright, I sank into his arms, a sight,
Went into hysterics but I cried in vain:-
On his clean old shirt front then I laid my trembling head,
"Do take it easy, rest awhile," the dear old chappie said.
"If you make a fuss of me and on me do not frown,
You shall have my mansion, dear, away in London town."
Wouldn't you think me silly if I said I could not like him?
Really he seemed a nice old boy, so I replied this way:
I will be your own for life, your imay doodleum little wife,
If you'll never tease me any more I say.