G'WAN HOME YOUR MUDDER'S CALLIN'
(words Ralph Freed. Music, Sammy Fain)

I'm part of the tough guys.
We're all of us rough guys.
I'm part of a gang on our street.
And when to delight us,
Some gang comes to fight us,
We don't call the cop on the beat.
We each one of us takes our place
And tells them right off to their face:

“Go on home. Your mudder's callin'.
Your fadder just fell in the garbage can.
Go on home. Your mudder's bawlin'.
They've come to collect your old man.”

One day my sweet mudder
Said, “Fetch your big brudder.
He ain't showed since yesterday noon.”
So I makes a beeline
As fast as a feline
To old man McGinty's saloon.
And just as I peeks through the doors,
The bouncer he spots me and roars:

“Go on home. Your mudder's callin'.
Your fadder got caught in the wash machine.
Go on home. Your mudder's bawlin'.
She can't get the laundry out clean.

“Go on home. Your mudder's callin'.
Your pa put a mouse in your mudder's shoe.
Go on home. Your mudder's bawlin',
And you just a crybaby too!”