HOME, JAMES, AND DON'T SPARE THE HORSES

It was in the gay nineties
One night at a swell affair
She was dressed in her best Sunday bustle
And wore a rat in her hair.

Her hero was both young and handsome,
But he was a terrible flirt.
He spent the entire evening
Making up to every skirt.

And when she gently reproached him,
He heeded her not at all,
And she, in her best Sunday bustle,
Went flouncing out in the hall,

She swept down the stairs most majestic
To her footman waiting below.
She spoke in accents loud and clear,
And told him where to go.

Home James, and don't spare the horses,
This night has been ruined for me.
Home, James, and don't spare the horses,
As ruined as ruined can be.

It's still in the gay nineties,
In fact the very next day.
Our hero is somewhat remorseful,
And don't know just what to say.

He thinks he'd better do something
To win her again for his own,
For she was his very best sweetheart
She was always good for a loan.

He went right straight to her mansion
And said "Forgive me dear."
But, when he tried to embrace her,
She gave him a boot in the rear.

He swept down the stairs most majestic
And the doorman, he booted him too,
And as he threw him in the street,
She said "Humph to you."

Home, James, and don't spare the horses,
My suitor is just a bit tight,
Home, James and don't spare the horses,
He'll sleep in the stable tonight.

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This version was transcribed from the 1938 edition of Song Fest.

I used to hear the phrase "Home, James" when I was a kid in Detroit in the 1950's. I wonder if it came from the song, or vice-versa.
-Joe-