Sukey Soap Suds- Hadaway (NY) 1840 (Parody)
[From Hadaway's Select Songster: 1840 edited by T. H. Hadaway. This is the first extant parody of Lord Lovel.
R. Matteson 2015]
SUKEY SOAP SUDS.
An Original Song, sung by Mr. Hadaway, in the character of Peter Pensive, in the "Fatal Prophecies."—Air: Lord Lovel.
Sukey Suds, she stood at her vashing tub,
A vashing her clothes so nice,
Vhen I pops in my head, and to her I said,
"Sukey Suds, I am off in a trice, trice, trice!
Sukey Suds, I am off in a trice!"
"Oh, vhere are you going? my Sukey said,
"Oh, vhere are you going?" says she,
"I am going, my own dear Sukey," says I,
Strange places for to see, see, see!
Strange places for to see!"
"Oh, you false hearted Peter? says she, to me,
"You false hearted lovier, says she,
"You are a going a courting another young 'oman.
Because you are tired of me, me, me!
Because you are tired of me!"
"Oh, no, Sukey Suds," says I, " 'taint so, I vow it aint so," says I,
But Sukey, she pulls out her 'andkercher,
And sat herself down to cry, cry, cry!
And sat herself down to cry!
"Oh, Sukey, my dear, oh, Sukey, my dear!
I swear I am free of that sin;
So vipe your eyes, my Sukey, don't cry,
Take a sup from this bottle of gin, gin, gin!
Take a sup from this bottle of gin!
So ve both sot us down by the side of the fire,
Took a sup, turn and turn about,
Vhen Sukey, she turned the bottle up.
And drank every drop clean out, out, out!
And drank every drop clean out!
As soon as the bottle was fi-ni-shed,
Says Sukey, says she, to me,
"You've promised to marry me, many a time,
Come marry me now," says she, she, she,
"Come marry me now," says she.
"Oh, I can't marry you, Miss Sukey," I said,
"Oh, I can't marry you," says I,
"For to morrow I'm off to a strange country,
And I've got other fish to fry, fry, fry!
And I've got other fish to fry!
"You wile vicked monster," says she to me,
"For this you are parjured;
And if ever you marries another young 'omon
My ghost shall haunt your bed, bed, bed!
My ghost shall haunt your bed!"
Now her passion vas up as high as could be,
So it couldn't be up no higher;
Vhen she seizes a three legged stool by von leg,
And she -knocks me right into the fire, fire, fire!
And she knocks me right into the fire!
MORAL. (Spoken.) Young youths—
When you are a going to choose a young 'oman,
Whose true love you've been trying to vin,
Go veepin and vailing to vish her good bye,
But be sure you don't carry no gin, gin, gin,
Besure you don't carry no gin.
Vhat I am now saying, now don't you despise,
But do take this advice from a fool;
Never promise vhat you don't mean to perform,
Or bevare of a three legged stool, stool,
Or bevare of a three legged stool!