I just found an American version of Nine Times a Night by Blaine Stubblefield of Ohio recorded by Alan Lomax in 1938. The song became popular for AL Lloyd's version, and many have suggested they would have believed Lloyd wrote it without the broadsides from the 1800s of the song. I am including the lyrics here for those interested. Fascinatingly, there is a whole 2nd half of the song that could stand on it's own. I came to this country without fame or renown And I settled down alone in a quiet little town The people didn’t know my name, of course I told them right I belong to that family called Nine Times A Night There was a lovely girl, got anxious to know And she sent around her waiting maid, unto my bungalow The maid came and called me, before it was daylight Enquiring for this young man, Nine Times A Night Well I went to the lady’s house, and there we went to bed And there we lay a-sporting, and I stole her maidenhead I went to her 8 times, before it was daylight but she just started hinting on her 9 times a night You were boasting of the courage of the family you belong And I took you by your name, and I think you did me wrong You were boasting of your family, and you knew it wasn’t right And you knew you couldn’t do it to me 9 times a night I wasn’t boasting of my courage, now you understand me wrong I was boasting of the courage of the family I belong If you took me by my name then I didn’t do you right I admit I couldn’t do it to you 9 times a night I have failed to do you justice, although I am a man But I vow and declare I have a brother who can He always does it willingly and always does it right And he always makes an average of his 9 times a night Now he went to a milkmaid, so charming and so gay She was always invited to a ball or a play She had the mind to work, and the mind to play And a mind of a miss for to go to the wake When you go to the wake, beware take care Take care, beware, Mr. Rogers will be there He’ll hug you and he’ll kiss you and he’ll roll you in his arms And you’ll be sorry coming home from the wake in the morn Well she went to the wake, Mr. Rogers he was there He hugged her and he kissed her and he rolled her in his arms He rolled her on the ground, and he rolled her in the corn Then she was sorry coming home from the wake in the morn They were going through a cornfield at the break of day When Rogers says to Nellie we will stop a while and play We will stop a while and play, and we’ll have a little chat And I’ll teach you the game that they call Shoot the Cat Well 6 months went and 7 months passed And her apron wouldn’t tie and her corset wouldn’t latch And she laid it to the game that they called Shoot the Cat 8 months passed and nine months gone and Nellie was relieved of a charming young son Then momma said Nellie we will name him for your sake We will call him Shoot the Kitten Coming Home From the Wake When this young lad grew up to be a man He’d run around the city with his poker in his hand And when he had to piddle, all the ladies he would shake And he’d say I’m Shoot the Kitten Coming Home From the Wake
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