THE COSTER'S SERENADE [1894]
[By ALBERT CHEVALIER].
I
You ain't forgotten yet that night in May,
Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is 'Endon way,
You fancied winkles and a pot of tea,
"Four 'alf" I murmured's "good enough for me."
"Give me a word of 'ope that I may win"—
You prods me gently with the winkle pin—
We was as 'appy as could be that day
Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is 'Endon way.
Oh, 'Arriet I'm waiting, waiting for you my dear,
Oh, 'Arriet I'm waiting, waiting alone out here;
When that moon shall cease to shine,
False will be this 'eart of mine,
I'm bound to go on lovin' yer my dear; d'ye 'ear?
II
You ain't forgotten 'ow we drove that day
Down to the Welsh 'Arp, in my donkey shay;
Folks with a "chy-ike" shouted, "Ain't they smart?" [1]
You looked a queen, me every inch a Bart.
Seemed that the moke was saying "Do me proud;"
Mine is the nobbiest turn-out in the crowd; [2]
Me in my "pearlies" felt a toff that day, [3]
Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is Endon way.
Oh, 'Arriet, &c.
III
Eight months ago and things is still the same,
You're known about 'ere by your maiden name,
I'm getting chivied by my pals 'cos why? [4]
Nightly I warbles 'ere for your reply.
Summer 'as gone, and it's a freezin' now,
Still love's a burnin' in my 'eart, I vow;
Just as it did that 'appy night in May
Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is Endon way.
Oh, 'Arriet, &c.
[1: shout] [2: finest; trap] [3: swell] [4: chaffed]