THE FINE OLD ENGLISH INNKEEPER.
Air—Sufficiently Obvious.
I'll sing you a new song on a theme much stirred of late,
Of a fine old English Innkeeper, grown rather out of date,
Who keeps up his establishment in almost princely state,
And don't forget to charge you there at quite a princely rate,
Like a fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.
His house, you're told, is fitted up "regardless of expense,"
Although one half is obsolete, and t'other make-pretence;
Exploded old four-posters, built in George the Second's reign,
Mock plate to serve mock-turtle in, sham ice-pails for champagne:
At this fine old English Innkeeper's, one of the olden time.
The swipes he draws is sour enough to turn a navvy pale,
Tho' by a bitter raillery he calls it bitter ale;
And tho' perhaps you don't see half a waiter all the day,
For "attendance" quite as much as for a lawyer's you must pay
To this fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.
Then if to wine your tastes incline some home-made Cape you'll get,
Served up in a decanter like a vinegar-cruet,
As a "bottle of Madeira" this will in the bill be set,
And however nasty it may be a nice sum you're in debt
To the fine old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.
And if your wife be with you, you must have a private room,
And use a pair of "wax-lights" (with a muttony perfume),
For which you'll pay a crown a day, and 'tis a burning shame
That whether they be lit or not they're charged for just the same
By this rare old English Innkeeper, one of the olden time.
But soon these fine old Innkeepers will find their race is run,
For men are up and doing, and no longer will be done:
And shortly we may hope to see a really good hotel,
Where we may be admitted, and not taken in as well,
As we were by our old Innkeeper, one of the fleecing time.