'ARRY THE OPTIMIST
I.
Oh! you should see
My gal and me
(Mariar is 'er nime),
When we go daown
To Brighton taown
She wears sich feathers in 'er 'at,
She's beautiful and guy,
But it ain't all beer and skittles—flat
And 'ere's the reason why:
Refrine—
She 'urries me, she worries me,
To ketch the bloomin' trine;
She 'ustles me, she bustles me,
She grumbles 'arf the time:
It's "'Arry do," and "'Arry don't,"
Which "'Arry" will, or "'Arry" won't
(It goes against the grine),
But—
(Triumphantly.)
We 'as a 'appy 'ollidy,
We gets there all the sime.
—'Urry up, 'Arry.
II.
And when we reach
The Brighton beach
It's sure to pour with rine
A pub is not
A 'appy spot
For us to set and drine
Yet there we set and tike our beer
And while awy the dy,
Though we don't 'ave words, no bloomin' fear
Mariar 'as 'er sy.
Refrine—
'Er langwidge is for sangwidges,
The weather's wrong, 'er feather's wrong,
I 'as to tike the blime.
It's "'Arry" 'ere, and "'Arry" there,
And "'Arry, you're a bloomin' bear,"
And "'Arry, it's a shime"—
(Spoken.)—Which is 'ard on a feller! And then we 'as
to ketch the bloomin' trine again, and she do talk, but
never mind—
(Brightly.)
We've 'ad a 'appy 'ollidy,
We gits 'ome all the sime.
—'Urry up, 'Arry!