WHEN I HAD BUT FIFTY CENTS
As recorded by Binkley Brothers Dixie Clodhoppers, 1928.

I took my girl to a fancy ball; it was a social hop.
We stayed all night until the break of daylight, just waitin' for the music to stop.
We went into a restaurant, the finest on the street.
She said she was not hung-a-ry, but this is what she eat:

A dozen raw, a plate of slaw, a chicken and a roast,
A pair of doves with applesauce, a soft-shell crab on toast,
A big barbecue, and crackers too; her appetite was immense.
When she called for pie, I thought I would die, for I had but fifty cents.

You bet I wasn't hungry; I didn't care to eat.
I've got money in my clothes to bet she can't be beat.
I thought if she ate that way all the time, she'd surely break a bank.
She said she was not thirsty, but this is what she drank:

A glass of ale, a gin cocktail—it made me shake with fear—
A ginger pop with rum on top, and then a schooner of beer,
A whiskey skin, a glass of gin; she should have had more sense.
When she called for more, I fell on the floor, for I had but fifty cents.

You bet I wasn't hungry; I didn't care to eat,
Expecting ev'ry moment to be kicked out in the street.
She said she'd bring her friends around some day and we'd have fun.
I showed the man my fifty cents and this is what he done:

He mashed my nose; he tore my clothes; he hit me on my jaw.
He grabbed me by my collar then and slammed me out the door.
He caught me where my clothes were loose, he kicked me through the fence.
Take my advice: don't try it twice when you got but fifty cents.