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 restaurant 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 applesass, and sparagrass, And soft-shell 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, She had an awful tank; She said she wasn't thirsty, But this is what she drank: A whiskey 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 sh'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 swept 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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSTANS TYRANNUS by ROBERT BROWNING TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON by JOHN CLEVELAND THE CITY OF GOD by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) THE MENU by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH WISCONSIN by CORA BLAKESLEE BEEBE |