COURTING IN THE KITCHEN

Young single men a warning take, and mark well what I mention,
And love, I'll quickly prove, is the devil's own invention,
For I was caught full in a trap by a housemaid so bewitching,
Who gammoned me with toast and tea to make love in the kitchen.

With a whack row de dow, etc.

I used to go my daily rounds with ham and eggs and butter,
And when I saw Miss Mary's face it put me in a flutter;
She used to look so sweet at me, as the gammon I kept pitching
And she to tea invited me down in her master's kitchen.

On Sunday was the happy day I went to have a flare-up,
And dressed myself so spruce and gay, and frizzed and oiled my hair up;
Her master being a single man, went out a-fishing,
And we had all the house to ourselves, and went courting in the kitchen.

Then we larked about and romp'd about as long as we were able
And the clock was striking six we both sat down to table.
She handed me the toast and tea with brandy so enriching,
Till I hardly knew what I was at, while courting in the kitchen.

Then I put my arms around her waist, and kiss'd and promised marriage,
When at the door came knocks a score, 'twas master in his carriage!
I felt my courage fade away, in my side I felt a stitch in,
And wish'd myself in Jerico, anywhere but in the kitchen.

Then up the stairs she flew like mad, full 5 feet 5 or higher,
And over head and heels knocked me, slap bang into the fire,
My trousers white and fancy vest and new coat with double stitching,
Was on my back to tinder burnt, all through courting in the kitchen.

She laughed to see my Sunday togs a heap of smoking ashes,
And a pail of dirty slops and slush bang in my face she dashes,
While I was rolling on the floor into me she kept pitching,
Till I was nearly drowned and burnt through courting in the kitchen.

Then her master he came down the stairs, and saw my situation
And spite of all my sighs and tears they dragged me to the station,
They would not take a bail for me, though to get out I was itching,
For I could not give a good account what I'd been doing in the kitchen.

Says I, she did invite me there, but she gave me a flat denial,
And charged me with a gross assault, and I was sent for trial,
She swore that I'd advantage took, in spite of all her screeching,
And I had to grind the mill three months, for courting in the kitchen.

When I came out, I was not stout and had the county crop,
And I'd lost my character, of course I lost my shop;
So all young men a warning take, when for love you feel an itching,
Do your business on the area steps, but keep out of the kitchen.

With my whack row de dow, etc.

Bodleian Ballads, Firth c.18(175); 1858-1885. Printed at the Catnach Press by W. B. Fortney, Monmouth Court, Bloomsbury, London.