APPENDIX I: LYRICS TO SELECTED SONGS RECORDED IN THE ACOUSTIC ERA

I'm Looking For The Man That Wrote The Merry Widow Waltz

A girlie named Lizzie,
Said, "Charlie, get busy,
And take me to see a good show."
Said he, "All right, Kiddo,
We'll go see the `Widow',
The one that's so `Merry', you know."
The `Waltz' was entrancing,
That strain set her dancing,
She's waltzed the shoes off of her feet;
There's trouble now cooking,
Says Charlie, "I'm looking,
For one that I'll brain if we meet."

CHORUS:

I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"
And if I fail to find him,
it's the greatest of my faults.
For when I think of Lizzie,
"Hop-Scotchin'" till she's dizzy;
I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"
The Janitor's squealing.
There's cracks in the ceiling,
But Lizzie goes twirling about;
The Kids' caught the fever,
The Cook and Coalheaver,
And even the dog have waltzed out.
The Hall-Boy's grown giddy,
And `sashays' with Biddy,
Each time that the Hand Organs grind;
That `Waltz' has him "going,"
Insanity's growing,
He shouts like he's losing his mind.

 

CHORUS:

I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"
And if I chance to find him,
he'll need more than smelling slats.
He'll never write another,
He'll think of Home and Mother;
I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"
The `Waltz' starts you shaking,
You hear it on waking,
You hear it on going to bed;
You hum it out walking,
You sing it when talking,
'Twill haunt you I'm sure till you're dead!
It oozes from cellars,
And all the Flat dwellers,
With phonographs make you a wreck;
Why, even a PARROT, way up in a garret,
Has got the WHOLE SCORE in its NECK.

CHORUS:

I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"
And the only thing can save him
Is the Sate Deposit vaults.
Chock full of lead I'll fill him,
Shout "Yes!" if I'm to kill him;
I'm looking for the man that wrote
"The Merry Widow Waltz!"

(Words by Edgar Selden and music by Seymour Furth, copyright
1907, Maurice Shapiro, New York, NY)

 

 

Over There

Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,
Take it on the run, on the run, on the run;
Hear them calling you and me;
Ev'ry son of liberty.
Hurry right away, no delay, go today,
Make your daddy glad, to have had such a lad,
Tell your sweetheart not to pine,
To be proud her boy's in line.

CHORUS:

Over there, over there,
Send the word, send the word over there,
That the Yanks are coming,
the Yanks are coming.
The drums rum-tumming ev'ry where--
So prepare, say a pray'r,
Send the word, send the word to beware,
We'll be over, we're coming over,
And we won't come back till it's over over there.
Johnnie get your gun, get your gun, get your gun,
Johnnie show the Hun, you're a son-of-a-gun,
Hoist the flag and let her fly,
Like true heroes, do or die.
Pack your little kit, show your grit, do your bit.
Soldiers to the ranks from the towns and the tanks,
Make your mother proud of you,
And to liberty be true.

(George M. Cohan, copyright 1917, Leo Feist, Inc., New York, NY)

Bridget O'Flynn (Where've Ya Been?)

"Bridget O'Flynn?"
"Yes, Mama dear?"
"Was that you sneakin' in, come over here.
Look at the state of your Sunday clothes,
Look at your shoes and new silk hose,
You've been doin' the Charleston I suppose.
Bridget O'Flynn, just say your pray'rs,
You'll need 'em when your father comes down stairs:

CHORUS:

Bridget O'Flynn,
Where've ya been?
Bridget O'Flynn,
This is a nice time for you to come in.
The boy friend took you for a ride?
And did the car break down?
Or maybe you ran out of gas,
About ten miles from town?
Did you walk home?
Look at your shoes!
Ain't it a sin,
Faith your story and your shoes are mighty thin.
I'm tellin' you now just what to do,
If you have any friends that own a canoe,
Don't go near the water, Bridget darlin'."
"Bridget O'Flynn?"
"What is it Ma?"
"When you get out agin you'll not go far,
Faith and last night you went far enough,
You and your paint and powder puff,
Just you wait till your father does his stuff.
Bridget O'Flynn, I'd like to bet,
That you can tell who owns this cigarette:

CHORUS:

Bridget O'Flynn,
Where've ya been?
Bridget O'Flynn,
This is a nice time for you to come in.
You went to see the Big Parade?
The big parade, me eye,
Sure no parade could ever take
that long in passin' by,
Bridget O'Flynn,
Tell me the truth,
This is your chance.
There was nothin' wrong?
You just went to a dance,
Just keep away from the dancin' hall.
There's nobody there worthwhile at all,
That's where I met your father, Bridget darlin'!"


(Words by Andrew B. Sterling and music by Robert King, copyright

1926, Shapiro, Bernstein & Co., Inc., New York, NY)