Florrie

 Because I was a wonton wild
 And welcomed many a lover,
Who is the father of my child
 I wish I could discover.

For though I know it is not right
 In tender arms to tarry,
A barmaid has to be polite
 To Tom and Dick and Harry.


My truest love was Poacher Jim:
 I wish my babe was his'n.

Yet I can't father it on him
 Because he was in prison.

As uniforms I like, I had
 A soldier and a sailor;
Then there was Pete the painter lad,
 And Timothy the tailor.


Though virtue hurt you vice ain't nice;
 They say to err is human;
Alas! one pays a bitter price,
 It's hell to be a woman.

Oh dear! Why was I born a lass
 Who hated to say: No, sir.

I'd better in my sorry pass
 Blame Mister Simms, the grocer.

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