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Lyr Add: Songs about barbers

Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 03:34 PM
GUEST,mg 31 Jul 14 - 04:02 PM
Steve Gardham 31 Jul 14 - 04:29 PM
Steve Gardham 31 Jul 14 - 04:30 PM
Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 05:51 PM
Joe_F 31 Jul 14 - 06:07 PM
Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 06:17 PM
GUEST,SqueezeMe 31 Jul 14 - 07:37 PM
GUEST,SqueezeMe (Typo warning) 31 Jul 14 - 07:54 PM
Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 08:41 PM
Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 08:59 PM
Jim Dixon 31 Jul 14 - 09:34 PM
Jim Carroll 01 Aug 14 - 01:27 AM
GUEST 01 Aug 14 - 03:13 AM
GUEST 01 Aug 14 - 03:30 AM
Long Firm Freddie 01 Aug 14 - 03:42 AM
Jim Dixon 01 Aug 14 - 12:38 PM
Paul Davenport 01 Aug 14 - 03:21 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Aug 14 - 10:03 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Aug 14 - 10:05 PM
Jim Dixon 01 Aug 14 - 10:45 PM
GUEST 01 Aug 14 - 11:23 PM
Bert 02 Aug 14 - 01:15 AM
dick greenhaus 02 Aug 14 - 12:55 PM
Jim Dixon 03 Aug 14 - 12:32 PM
Jim Dixon 03 Aug 14 - 01:04 PM
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Ernest 03 Aug 14 - 04:15 PM
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Subject: Lyr Add: THE BARKING BARBER
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 03:34 PM

From the Bodleian collection, Harding B 25(121)

Other copies can be found at Harding B 14(5) and in The Columbian Songster, printed by Nathaniel Heaton, Jun., 1799:

THE
Barking Barber,
Or, New Bow, Wow.

A New Comi-Satyri-Political Lecture on Blockheads
By PASQUIN SHAVELOCK, Esq., Shaver Extraordinary


1. Ye gents give ear to me I pray,
    I am a barking barber;
The best accommodations have,
    Keen razors and hot lather;
Pray walk into my noted shop,
    I shave as clean as any;
And when I've done it to your mind,
    Will charge you but a penny!
            Bow, wow, wow,
        I am a barking barber.


2. Ye ragged pates your hair I'll crop,
    And dress it vastly pretty;
Or if your blocks are bare, walk in,
    I warrant I can fit ye,
With bag or queue, or long pig-tail,
    Or bushy wig, or grizzled;
So well be-powder'd, clean, and white,
    And eke so nicely frizzled.
            Bow, wow, wow, &c.

3. My shop well furnish'd out with blocks,
    Becomes an exhibition,
Of heads of ev'ry age and kind,
    And every condition:
A lawyer's head without a quirk,
    Without chicane, a proctor's;
A lady's head without a tongue,
    Without a nostrum doctor's.
            Bow, wow, wow, &c.

4. A poet's head without a rhyme,
    A wit's too without punning;
Without a crotchet fiddler's head,
    A jockey's without cunning:
A cuckold's head devoid of horns,
    His wife's without invention;
A barber's head without his brains,
    And others I could mention.
            Bow, wow, wow, &c.

5. And let none of the wicked wits
    Despise my occupation:
The greater always shave the less,
    In ev'ry rank and station:
The rich will ever shave the poor,
    The Minister an't please ye,
Well lathers you with promises,
    Then shaves you mighty easy.
            Bow, wow, wow, &c.

6. And shavers keen I trow there are,
    Of every profession;
But pardon now, my customers,
    This whimsical digression:
And walk into my noted shop,
    I shave as clean as any;
And when I've done it to your mind,
    Will charge you but a penny.
            Bow, wow, wow, &c.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: GUEST,mg
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 04:02 PM

barber of seville???


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Steve Gardham
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 04:29 PM

Lather 'em, Shave 'em.
Monkey turn'd Barber
Lots of versions of both of these at the Bodl.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Steve Gardham
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 04:30 PM

Also Jim there's at least one thread on the 'Bow wow wow' songs and their history going back to the 18thc.


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE DEANSGATE BARBER (from Bodleian)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 05:51 PM

From the Bodleian collection: Harding B 11(817):
The Deansgate
BARBER.

Brushed up and Lathered into song
BY AN OLD SHAVER

Tune—"The Organ Grinder."


Come listen, all ye gay young men,
    To a ballad newly made,
        And a story true
        I'll tell unto you
    Of a Deansgate barber blade;
How he courted a girl called bonny Kate,
    And sang such sweet refrains,
        Till the barbarous man
        Did her heart trepan,
    And fairly turned her brains
    With his strains.

            So, boys, have a care
            If you are on with the fair:
                Deceitful thoughts ne'er harbour,
                    But ponder well
                    On what befell
                The faithless Deansgate barber.

He met her first, I won't say when,
    But I think you all know where.
        She chanced to drop
        In the barber's shop
    For a pennyworth of oil for her hair.
Then he gave her an awful loving look
    And squeezed her hand so hard,
        As he passed her a lot
        Of pomatum in a pot
    Which he'd made from a bladder of lard
    In the yard.

            So boys have a care, &c.

Then he made her a present of twelve half-crowns
    To buy a new wedding gown,
        With a pink parasol,
        False curls and a fall
    To wear when she walked up town,
And he told her he'd eight hundred pounds in the bank,
    And of rings and jewels he'd a many,
        And all that he had
        He'd give her and be glad
    If she would be his half-penny.
    [*]

            So boys have a care, &c.

Then he took her to famed Belle Vue for a dance,
    And then for a moonlight walk,
        To a place he knew
        Where buttercups grew
    And they had a little private talk,
And he sat by her side on the bright green grass
    And vowed her a solemn vow,
        And the talked so much,
        And her innocence was such,
    She got ruined and she couldn't tell how.
    What a row!

            So boys have a care, &c.

When apples are ripe, they are sure to fall,
    And all in time there came,
        As a pledge of their love,
        Such a dear little dove,
    But it ain't got a penny to its name;
And the barber he refused to be its papa,
    Though like him as a mutton to a mole!
        It was marked—the little chap—
        With a razor and a strap
    And a full-length figure of his pole.
    Upon my soul!

            So boys have a care, &c.

Now the barber he married another girl
    And Kate went to law straightway,
    And four score pounds
Was the inside bounds
    Of the damages he'd got to pay.
So mind, ye jolly young shavers all,
    If a maiden's heart ye entail,
        Don't squeeze too hard
        Or give her hog's lard
    If she calls for a pennyworth of oil
    As a foil.

            So, boys, have a care
            If you are on with the fair:
                Deceitful thoughts ne'er harbour,
                    But ponder well
                    On all that befell
                The faithless Deansgate barber.

[* There seems to be a short line missing here; it should rhyme with "penny."]


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Joe_F
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 06:07 PM

Sweeney Todd.


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE MONKEY TURNED BARBER
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 06:17 PM

From the National Library of Scotland*:


THE MONKEY TURNED BARBER.

A Frolicksome spark in Dublin did dwell.
He came over to Liverpool which for him was not well.
He went into a barber's shop for to be shaved,
Where a great heavy beast unto Pat ill behaved.

The barber being out and his wife not within,
There was nought but this monkey who looked at Pat very grim.
"Good morning, good father," then Paddy did say.
"You've long been a barber; your head's very grey.

"Can you shave a wild Irishman just come from the sod?"
The monkey look'd in Pat's face, gave a wink and a nod.
He took up the lather box into his paw,
And knock'd up a lather, so lather'd Pat's jaw.

The razor he then began quickly to use,
And at the first stroke look off part of Pat's nose.
He lathered and shaved and cut him full sore.
Like a bull at a stake poor Paddy did roar.

Then in comes the barber and trembling with fear,
To see the wild Irishman to stamp and to swear.
"What's the matter, my friend?" "My friend," returned he,
"Don't you see how that big rogue your father served me?"

"Indeed I've no father; long time he's been dead."
"It's your grandfather, then, with his ugly big head.
He's gone up the chimney; he dare not come down.
By my soul, if I had him, I'd crack his old crown."

Then crying out, "Murder!" Pat ran up the street,
And one of his countrymen chanced for to meet,
Who seeing him bleeding, pity'd his case,
Saying, "Arrah, dear honey, and who cut your face?"

"Why, I went to a barber's shop just to be shaved,
Where a great ugly beast to me ill behaved.
He lathered and shaved me and cut me you see.
He's dressed like a man but turns out a monkey."

"Why sure, man alive, you must have been mad,
To sit while he cut your nose and chin so bad;
But come to a grog shop the story to tell.
We'll try if good whiskey won't make your face well."


[* I chose this version mainly because it was already digitized; all I had to do was copy and paste! There are several versions of this in the Bodleian, under various titles:
MONKEY BARBER
MONKEY TURN'D BARBER
MONKEY SHAVING AN IRISHMAN.]


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE MAN FROM IRONBARK (Paterson)
From: GUEST,SqueezeMe
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 07:37 PM

THE MAN FROM IRONBARK, though not strictly a song, but a poem from the pen of Banjo Patterson. Sung by Slim Dusty on his "Heritage Album", though not sure if he was responsible setting it to music.

It was the man from Ironbark who struck the Sydney town,
He wandered over street and park, he wandered up and down.
He loitered here, he loitered there, till he was like to drop,
Until at last in sheer despair he sought a barber's shop.
"'Ere! shave my beard and whiskers off, I'll be a man of mark,
I'll go and do the Sydney toff up home in Ironbark."


The barber man was small and flash, as barbers mostly are,
He wore a strike-your-fancy sash, he smoked a huge cigar;
He was a humorist of note and keen at repartee,
He laid the odds and kept a "tote", whatever that may be,
And when he saw our friend arrive, he whispered, "Here's a lark!
Just watch me catch him all alive, this man from Ironbark."


There were some gilded youths that sat along the barber's wall.
Their eyes were dull, their heads were flat, they had no brains at all;
To them the barber passed the wink, his dexter eyelid shut,
"I'll make this bloomin' yokel think his bloomin' throat is cut."
And as he soaped and rubbed it in he made a rude remark:
"I s'pose the flats is pretty green up there in Ironbark."


A grunt was all reply he got; he shaved the bushman's chin,
Then made the water boiling hot and dipped the razor in.
He raised his hand, his brow grew black, he paused awhile to gloat,
Then slashed the red-hot razor-back across his victim's throat:
Upon the newly-shaven skin it made a livid mark -
No doubt it fairly took him in - the man from Ironbark.


He fetched a wild up-country yell might wake the dead to hear,
And though his throat, he knew full well, was cut from ear to ear,
He struggled gamely to his feet, and faced the murd'rous foe:
"You've done for me! you dog, I'm beat! one hit before I go!
I only wish I had a knife, you blessed murdering shark!
But you'll remember all your life the man from Ironbark."


He lifted up his hairy paw, with one tremendous clout
He landed on the barber's jaw, and knocked the barber out.
He set to work with nail and tooth, he made the place a wreck;
He grabbed the nearest gilded youth, and tried to break his neck.
And all the while his throat he held to save his vital spark,
And "Murder! Bloody murder!" yelled the man from Ironbark.


A peeler man who heard the din came in to see the show;
He tried to run the bushman in, but he refused to go.
And when at last the barber spoke, and said "'Twas all in fun—
'Twas just a little harmless joke, a trifle overdone."
"A joke!" he cried, "By George, that's fine; a lively sort of lark;
I'd like to catch that murdering swine some night in Ironbark."


And now while round the shearing floor the list'ning shearers gape,
He tells the story o'er and o'er, and brags of his escape.
"Them barber chaps what keeps a tote, By George, I've had enough,
One tried to cut my bloomin' throat, but thank the Lord it's tough."
And whether he's believed or no, there's one thing to remark,
That flowing beards are all the go way up in Ironbark.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: GUEST,SqueezeMe (Typo warning)
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 07:54 PM

Author of the above song should of course be spelled "Paterson".

I see the song was also recorded by the duo, Wallis & Matilda using a different tune, and can be found on YouTube
here


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Subject: Lyr Add: WHO SHAVED THE PIG (from Bodleian)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 08:41 PM

From the Bodleian collection, Firth b.28(5a/b), page 4:

WHO SHAVED THE PIG?
Words by J. Pinder, music by J. Dodsworth, sung by John Wynne.

1. The name I bear is Sammy Strop.
I've just began a barber's shop.
My custom is already made,
For my old dad was in the trade;
But more than customers will pop
Their heads into my little shop,
For urchins from the street look in
And with this question raise a din:

CHORUS: Where did you steal the soap for your father?
Who cut the hair of the man with the wig?
What were you at, when you shampooed the cat?
Was it you or your father who shaved the pig?

2. I made sorties out every day
To drive those horrid lads away,
But all in vain, for still they come
And in my ears that ditty hum.
I like to tell my customer
The latest news that is astir,
But while the tale I'm spinning out,
Those wretches through the keyhole shout: CHORUS

3. Of course you know, at least I hope,
You don't believe I crib my soap,
And when a cranium is bare,
I never think of cutting hair.
No cat or dog belongs to us,
So how could I shampoo a puss?
To shave a pig is such a task!
So now I wonder why they ask: CHORUS

4. To top the pile of all my woes,
Unto a girl I did propose.
I loved her well, but then you see,
She hadn't got a smack for me,
For when down on my knees I went,
To see if she would give consent,
I thought she would and answer "yes,"
Instead of which she warbled this: CHORUS


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Subject: Lyr Add: A LOVE OF GOD SHAVE
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 08:59 PM

From a broadside at The National Library of Scotland:

A LOVE OF GOD SHAVE.

1. It was in this town, not far from this spot,
A barber he opened a snug little shop.
He at Birmingham had been for many a year,
And he shav'd all the natives so clean and so clear.

2. But one evil practice he swore he would stop:
No one would ever come for trust twice to his shop,
For a razor he'd got full of notches and rust,
And he'd warm well their jaws should they come for trust.

3. It happened a Irishman came by that way,
Whose beard had been growing for many a day.
He went to the door and he laid down his hod.
"Arrah, would you give me a shave, for the love of God?

4. "For divil a pinny I have in my purse.
Sure give me a shave, you will be none the worse."
"Walk in," said the barber. "Sit down on this chair,
And your strong bristly beard I'll mow down to a hair."

5. So he spread a lather o'er Paddy's broad chin,
And with his rusty razor to shave did begin.
"Stop! stop! man, what the devil are you doing?
Lave of my face or my jaws you will ruin!"

6. The barber kept on, and never pitied his case,
While tears big as peas ran down poor Paddy's face.
"Hold your tongue," said the barber. "Don't make such a din.
You're sure to be cut by moving your chin."

7. "Cut no but sawed for the razor you've got.
By jabers, it would not cut butter if hot.
You may lather and shave all your friends till you're sick,
But by japers, I'd sooner be shaved wid a brick.

8. "O, by japers, that's surely a teaser.
A love of God shave with the devil's own razor!"
So grumbling and growling, he left the shop door,
And no mortal man was shav'd so before.

9. It happened one day when Paddy was walking.
By the barber's shop-door he was quietly stalking.
He heard a donkey give a terrible roar,
And thought the sound came from the barber's shop-door.

10. "O, bad luck to the barber, the vagabond knave!
He's just giving another a love of God shave.
O, by da japers, he's surely a teaser!
A love of God shave, wid the devil's own razor!"

[The Bodleian collection also has 4 copies of this song.]


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Subject: Lyr Add: JONATHAN BROWN (from Bodleian)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 31 Jul 14 - 09:34 PM

From the Bodleian collection, Johnson Ballads 1221 (It also has 7 other copies.):


JONATHAN BROWN.

1. 'Twas down in a snug little country town,
A barber once lived, named Jonathan Brown,
A man very tidily settled in life,
For he wanted for nothing excepting a wife.
CHORUS: Dumble dum deary, &c.

2. A staring large bill in his window, displayed
The various branches he had in his trade,
Such as "shaving and dressing," and then underneath,
Was "Cupping and bleeding, and drawing of teeth."

3. But he wasn't like one of your dentists in town,
Who for drawing a grinder would charge you a crown,
For, if you were only to give him the job,
Lord! he'd draw you all over his shop for a bob.

4. But he found the advantage of working so cheap,
For customers flock'd to his shop in a heap;
He cut hair for twopence and rubb'd 'em with grease,
And he tortured their chins at a penny a piece.

5. Thus single he lived, yet thriving his trade,
Yet still to get married, he constantly prayed,
Till a damsel, one day, came to give his mind ease,
And says she, "Sir, I want my front dressed, if you please."

6. From that moment his heart was in Cupid's net caught.
She encouraged his visits, but just as he thought
To make her his own, as she'd given her word,
A rival he found in a tailor,—Good Lord!

7. One night, unexpected, he popped in to see
How she was, when the tailor was sitting at tea,
"Lord, Sally," says he, "turn him out if you can.
Don't you know that he's but the ninth part of a man?"

8. The Tailor's blood now, beginning to rise,
He swelled himself up to near double his size,
And he told him he wished that he never might squint,
But he'd pummel him well for his barbarous hint.

9. Now, Sally, she said she was sorely perplexed,
To know, which of the two she could fancy the best,
And to see them go quarrel for her she was loth,
For she thought she could very well manage them both.

10. They told her, that certainly wouldn't be right,
But to see which would have her, they'd willingly fight,
Then to settle the job, they went in the next room,
And Sal, with a cobbler, jumped over a broom.

11. Now ladies, I beg you'll be warned by her fate,
See the troubles which false-hearted women await,
For Sal, as a punishment left for her sins,
In less than three months was delivered of twins.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Jim Carroll
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 01:27 AM

Traditional version of Above from Micho Russell of County Clare
Jim Carroll

The Love-of-God Shave (Laws Q15; Roud 571)
Micho Russell, Doolin
Carroll Mackenzie Collection

And it was in this town, not far from this spot,
Where a barber once opened his snug little shop.
He was so ill-tempered, his mind was so pleased,
It was said he could coax people in off of a the street.

By chance a poor Irishman strolled by the way,
Whose beard had been grown this many long day.
He walked into the barber, and threw down his hod,
Saying, 'Give me a shave for the pure love of God.'

'Faith', said the barber, 'I never give trust.'
'By japers,' says Pat, 'but this time you must.
For the devil a penny I've got to pay,
And I haven't got a shave this many a long day.'

'Sit down,' said the barber, 'sit down in that chair,
And I'll soon mow your long crazy beard to a hair.'
When the lather was spread over Paddy's broad chin,
With a rusty old razor did the barber begin.

'Leave off,' cries Pat, 'what the devil are you doing?
Leave off, you devil, or my jaw you will ruin.
Or who in the devil could sit to be shaved with a saw,
Yerra stop, or you'll drag every tooth in my jaw.'

'Sit still,' cried the barber, 'and don't make such a din,
For you are sure to be cut by the move of your chin.'
'Cut what,' says Pat, 'the razor you have got,
It wouldn't cut butter unless it was hot.'

The barber shaved on, not pitying his case,
Whilst tears big as turnips ran down Paddy's face.
'By japers,' says Pat, 'but that is a taser.
I'm sure you have got the devil's own razor.'

Well to shorten this song, it happened one day,
Paddy strolled out by the lane where the barber shop lay.
When a donkey bawled out with a terrible roar,
And the noise seemed to come from the barber shop door.

'Yerra listen,' says Pat, 'that vagabond knave,
He's giving some other poor devil a love of that shave.
He may shave all his friends and relations 'till sick,
As for my part, I'd sooner rub it off with a brick.'

This English broadside dates back to the early part of the 19th century; it was known, among other titles, as 'The Trust Shave', 'The Monkey Turned Barber' and 'The Irish Bull'
It appeared a couple of times in Britain and only one other version in Ireland, sung by Jack Weafer of Wexford. It also appeared in a couple of Irish American songbooks at the end of the 19th century. It was extremely popular in the United States where it was said to have been performed on the Vaudeville stage in a broad 'Oirish' accent.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: GUEST
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 03:13 AM

Click go the shears? A sort of barbering?


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: GUEST
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 03:30 AM

Surely ewe mean bah-bering?


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Long Firm Freddie
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 03:42 AM

The Beach Boys had a massive hit with Bar-Bar-Bar, Bar-Barber-Ann, didn't they?

LFF


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Subject: Lyr Add: THE BARBER'S DAUGHTER/I'LL THROW MYSELF..
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 12:38 PM

From the Bodleian Library:*

THE BARBER'S DAUGHTER or
I'LL THROW MYSELF OFF LONDON BRIDGE

1. Ah, once there was no young cock robin,
Once there was no bumble bee,
Once there was no young cock-chafer,
Half so gay and happy as me.
Now I feel so sad and lonely,
Like a dove that's lost its mate.
Cupid, Cupid's sent me stupid,
Misery's to be my fate.

CHORUS: So I'll throw myself off London Bridge,
I'll jump into the water,
And down, down, down, I'll drown, drown, drown
For the loss of the barber's daughter.

2. Sweet Seraphina Macintosh,
She was the girl I did adore.
I loved her father's barbers shop,
I loved the pole outside his door.
For her how often I felt raving
Mad with love both night and day.
Three times an hour I wanted shaving
Then could not tear myself away.

CHORUS

3. Alas one fatal morn I went,
To undergo my seventh shave,
The Barber of our loves did scent,
And like a maniac did rave;
He seized his razor, danced the 'Can Can',
Smothered my eyes with lather hot;
For fear that he might cut my nose off,
Hastily I fled the spot.

CHORUS

4. He told his child, the grey old willing,
A titled lady she should be,
But he'd cut her off without a shilling,
If she dared to think of me.
Now she turns her pretty nose up
As the barber's shop I pass,
And if I tell my woe to anyone,
They call me a confounded ass.

[* Since that copy was very difficult to read, I checked some lines against another copy in Ark, Issues 7-9, via Google Books.]


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Paul Davenport
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 03:21 PM

The Gatty collection has the following;

The Parson with the Wooden Leg [Roud 1508]
from - 'Down Yorkshire Lanes' Hallamshire Traditions 2013
http://www.hallamtrads.co.uk
Tune coll. Braithwell, S. Yorkshire 1907 R.A. Gatty

A barber there was named Timothy Briggs
Quite famous was he for a-making good wigs
Until with a lass call'd Rebecca Bell
Slap over his heels in love he fell
        Singing fol-the-rol-day,
        Right fol-the-day, right fol-the-day
        Right fol-the-laddy,
        Right fol-the-day

The went to the church the knot for to tie
To a wooden-legg'd parson named Jonathan Sly
And sure, if you'd seen him you'd laughed at him plump
As he mounted the pulpit with his old stump

They'd only been married a week or two
When Rebecca turned out a most terrible shrew
No comfort have I with this woman he said
I'll go back to the parson and I'll get unwed

He went to the parson, said he, 'Mr Sly'
If I live with this woman I surely shall die
You said you would make us two into one
I've come to see now if I can't be undone

The parson he said, 'That's a thing rather new'
I don't know that I'e power my flock to undo
Here's hoping you'll lead a more happier life
I'll go round to your house and I'll lecture your wife.

Now the barber, quite pleased went taking his glass
The old parson stumped off to lecture the lass
But when he got home, Lor', what did he see?
But the parson with Rebecca on top of his knee

Now the barber bristled up every hair
He said, Mr Parson what are you doing there?
You said you wanted undoing my man,
So you see I'm a doing it fast as I can

I think I'm undone now if I never was before
He kicked Mr Parson straight out through the door
He lay in the street and his wooden leg stood
Like a spade sticking up in a cartload of mud

This couple from then they lived more reconciled
But nine months from that day she brought him a child
The barber hung himself up on a peg
When he found his child born with a brand-new wooden leg.

The following, while not strictly about a barber, has the distinction of being the only time a tune was collected with this text:

A Nobby Head of Hair       [Roud 12612] Source as above.

You've call'd on me to sing a song,
I'll try what I can do
I don't say whether good or bad
For that I'll leave to you
The subject's now before you
And I solemnly declare
There's no-one in this street can sport
Such a nobby head of hair

When an infant, I a wonder was
But upwards as i grew
At school I so surprised the boys
They in mobs around me flew
But when a young man I had grown
My mother said, if I took care
I soon should catch an heiress
With my nobby head of hair

Although my hair is elegant
It oft gets into scrapes
At the Zoo, the other day
Twas well pulled by the apes
And making my escape from them
I was grappled by a bear
It fancied that I was its cub,
With my nobby head of hair

Not liking this brute treatment
From the gardens I did roam
I caught a lady ogling me
I asked to see her home
Her husband coming up the road
He asunder did us tear
Then he dragged me through a horse-pond
By my nobby head of hair.

He left me near dead with affright
And wet through to the skin
A mob soon came around me
They did naught but jeer and grin
A p'liceman took me in custody
And solemnly did swear
That I one of the swell mob was
By my nobby head of hair

To the magistrate my innocence
I pleaded, but in vain
He said to prison you mus go
Your guilt it is quite plain
So to the treadmill I was sent
On the silent system there
But what grieved me most was thy cut off
My nobby head of hair

But now that I am free again
I'm happy as a king
Thats one reason why tonight you see
I have come here to sing
But here's a fact you can't deny
It is a thing most rare
To see a handsome chap like me
With such a nobby head of hair


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Subject: Lyr Add: ISABELLA, WITH THE GINGHAM UMBRELLA
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 10:03 PM

This song barely mentions the barber, but it was evidently very popular, judging from the fact that several versions exist:

From Tony Pastor's "Own" Comic Vocalist, compiled by John F. Poole (New York: Dick & Fitzgerald, 1863), page 5:

ISABELLA, WITH THE GINGHAM UMBRELLA
Or, THE BARBER'S DAUGHTER OF WEEHAWKEN.
As sung by Tony Pastor

1. On a Monday afternoon, in the latter part of June,
I got on board the ferry-boat for Wee-haw-ken.
As my eyes I chanced to raise, a lady met my gaze.
She was crowded in the cabin 'mongst a lot of men.
In her hands she had a bouquet, and she wore a jockey-hat,
And she gave me such a look—oh, how my heart went pit-a-pat!
She'd a gingham umbrella; her name was Isabella,
And her father kept a barber's shop at Wee-haw-ken.

2. I rushed to her side, and I proffered my assistance.
Oh, the smile she gave me, as I offered her a seat!
I sat down beside her, and, as she made no resistance,
We talked of the weather, the rain, and the heat.
I asked her of her parents; I asked her her trade.
She was "bossin'" in a bonnet-shop, and sold them ready made.
Then she raised her umbrella, said, "My name is Isabella,
And my father keeps a barber's shop at Wee-haw-ken."

3. Before we parted, she had all my affection.
I inquired, "Should I see her at some future day?"
She simpered and smiled, and said "she'd no objection."
As light as a fairy she tripped it away.
So we were engaged in a regular way.
My time passed as happy as the flowers in May,
When I thought of Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
And her father's little barber-shop at Wee-haw-ken.

4. When you hear the sequel, you'll say it has no equal
In all the annals of woman's deceit.
I went one night for to meet my Isabella,
But no Isabella was there to meet.
I searched far and wide, till I happened to drop
In a lager-bier garden, where they had a sort of "hop."
Oh, there was Isabella, with a ginger-whiskered fellow,
Doing "double shuffles" up at Wee-haw-ken.

5. I staggered with surprise, then exclaimed: "Isabella,
Do I look like a fool? do you take me for a flat?"
She coolly replied, "Well, I rayther think I do,
And if you don't like it, take it out of that."
I rushed at my rival, satisfaction to get,
But found that my troubles had not ended yet,
For up jumped Isabella, with her gingham umbrella,
And let me have it on the nose at Wee-haw-ken.

6. I rushed from her presence, resolved upon slaughter.
Thinks I, "Now in the Hudson repose I will find."
Then, fully bent on Susancide, I ran down to the water,
But my opinions altered, and I changed my mind.
For folly must be paid for, and wisdom bought.
There are fishes in the sea that have not been caught.
So a fig for Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
And her father's little barber-shop at Wee-haw-ken!


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Subject: Lyr Add: ISABELLA AND HER GINGHAM UMBRELLA
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 10:05 PM

Another version of the above song, from the sheet music in the Levy Collection:


ISABELLA AND HER GINGHAM UMBRELLA
Words and music by Harry Clifton, 1864.

1. When you hear my ditty, my woes you will pity.
I'm engaged in the city from ten till three,
But I've been betrayed by a fascinating maid
Who was boss of a sewing machine, do you see?
Her eyes were as black as the pips of a pear.
No rose in the garden with her cheeks could compare.
She'd a gingham umbrella; her name was Isabella,
And her father kept a barber's ship in South Boston.

2. On a Monday afternoon in the latter part of June
From the Parker House I started for a sail to Chelsea,
And as we drew near to Chelsea Ferry pier,
A lovely lady I chanced to see.
In her hands a nosegay; 'twas a bundle of stocks,
A brown paper parcel and a blue bonnet-box.
She'd a gingham umbrella; her name was Isabella,
And her father kept a barber's ship in South Boston.

3. I rushed to the gangway and proffered my assistance.
O the smile that she gave me as I handed her a seat!
I sat down beside her; she offered no resistance.
We talked of the weather, the rain and the heat.
I asked her her parents; I asked her their trade.
I asked her her name, with a look half afraid.
She raised her umbrella, said "My name is Isabella,
And my father keeps a barber's shop in South Boston."

4. Before we parted, she'd all my affection.
I inquired, "Should I see her at some future day?"
She simpered, and smiled, and said, "She'd no objection."
As light as a fairy she tripped it away.
So we were engaged in a regular way.
My time passed as happy as the flowers in May
When I thought of Isabella and her gingham umbrella
And her father's little barber's shop in South Boston.

5. I took her to see the Organ with a ticket of admission.
I took her up to Parker's and give her an oyster stew.
I took her to the museum to see the exhibition,
And then we rode out to Brighton too.
O the presents I made, and the letters I wrote,
From the first time I met her on a ferry boat!
My darling Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
Whose father kept a barber's shop in South Boston.

6. When you hear the sequel, you'll say it has no equal
In all the annals of woman's deceit.
I went one night to meet my Isabel,
But no Isabel was there to meet.
I searched far and wide till I happened to drop
In at Lyceum Hall, at a fifty-cent hop.
Oh, there was Isabella, with a ginger-whiskered fellow
Doing "double shuffles" up in South Boston.

7. I staggered with surprise, then exclaimed, "Isabella!
Do I look like a fool? Do you take me for a flat?"
She coolly replied, "Well, I rather think I do,
And if you don't like it, you can take your hat."
I rushed at my rival, satisfaction to get,
But found that my troubles had not ended yet,
For up jumped Isabella, with her gingham umbrella,
And she smashed my new hat over at South Boston.

8. I rushed back from the sight of the faithless spinster
In the Back Bay water repose to find,
But before I reached the toll gate out on the Milldam,
My opinions altered, and I changed my mind;
For folly must be paid for, and wisdom bought.
There are fishes in the sea that have never been caught.
So a fig for Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
And her father's little barber's shop in South Boston!


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Subject: Lyr Add: ISABELLA, THE BARBER'S DAUGHTER
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 10:45 PM

Yet another version. Obviously, part of the fun of this song is inserting place-names from your favorite city.

From The Wide World Songster (London: The Music-Publishing Company, 1863), page 264:


ISABELLA, THE BARBER'S DAUGHTER.
Music at Hopwood & Crew's, New Bond Street.

1. When you hear my ditty, my woes you'll pity.
I'm engaged in the City from ten till three;
But I've been betrayed by a fascinating maid,
Who was bos'an in a bonnet shop at Battersea.
Her eyes were as black as the pips of a pear.
No rose in the garden with her cheeks could compare.
She'd a gingham umbrella, her name was Isabella,
And her father kept a barber's shop at Islington.

2. On a Monday afternoon, in the latter part of June,
From Waterloo I started for a ride to Battersea,
And as we drew near to Hungerford pier,
A lovely lady I chanced to see.
In her hands a nosegay; 'twas a bundle of stocks,
A brown paper-parcel, and a blue bonnet-box;
A gingham umbrella; her name was Isabella,
And her father keeps a barber's shop at Islington.

3. I rushed to the gangway and proffered my assistance.
Oh! the smile that she gave me as I handed her a seat.
I sat down beside her; she offered no resistance.
We talked of the weather, the rain, and the heat.
I asked of her parents; I asked her their trade?
I asked her her name? With a look half afraid,
She raised her umbrella, said, 'My name is Isabella,
And my father keeps a barber's shop at Islington.'

4. Before we parted, she'd all my affection,
I enquired, 'Should I see her at some future day?"
She simpered and smiled, and said 'She'd no objection;'
As light as a fairy, she tripped it away.
So we were engaged in a regular way.
My time passed as happy as the flowers in May,
When I thought of Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
And her father's little barber's shop at Islington.

5. I took her to the Palace with a ticket of admission.
I took her to Richmond, and the gardens at Kew.
I took her to Madame Tussaud's Exhibition,
Eight hours by the sea, at Brighton, too.
Oh! the presents I made, and the letters I wrote,
From the first time I met her on a Citizen boat!
My darling Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
Whose father kept a barber's shop at Islington.

6. When you hear the sequel, you'll say it has no equal
In all the annals of woman's deceit.
I went one night to meet my Isabel,
But no Isabel was there to meet.
I searched far and wide, till I happened to drop
In, near the Angel, at a 'sixpenny hop.'
Oh! there was Isabella, with a ginger-whiskered fellow,
Doing 'double shuffles' up at Islington.

7. I staggered with surprise, then exclaimed 'Isabella!
Do I look like a fool? Do you take me for a flat?'
She coolly replied, 'Well, I rather think I do,
And if you don't like it, take it out of that!'
I rushed at my rival, satisfaction to get,
And found that my troubles had not ended yet,
For up jumped Isabella, with her gingham umbrella,
And smashed my new 'six-and-six' at Islington.

8. I rushed from the sight of the faithless spinster,
In the Thames dirty water repose to find
But before I reached the bridge of Westminster
My opinions altered, and I changed my mind;
For folly must be paid for, and wisdom bought.
There are fishes in the sea that have never been caught.
So a fig for Isabella, and her gingham umbrella,
And her father's little barber's shop at Islington.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: GUEST
Date: 01 Aug 14 - 11:23 PM

A bit more modern, but good for a laugh, Ray Stevens sang (wrote?)

When you get a haircut, be sure to go back home
When you get a haircut, get a barber you have known
Since you were a little bitty boy sittin' in a booster chair
Or you might look like Larry, Moe or Curly if a stranger cuts your hair

You Tube


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Bert
Date: 02 Aug 14 - 01:15 AM

Here comes old Beaver
Bee, bee, bee, bee beaver
all the kids they laugh and shout
Ai, Ai, Ai, does your mother know you're out?
You fairly robbed the barber
you don't look worth a stever
baa, baa black sheep, have you any wool
Here comes old Beaver.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: dick greenhaus
Date: 02 Aug 14 - 12:55 PM

And nobody mentioned Sweeny Todd


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Subject: =Lyr Add: THE BARBER'S SHOP (John C. Baker)
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 03 Aug 14 - 12:32 PM

From the sheet music at Indiana University:


"Songs & Glees of the Baker Family of New Hampshire"
THE BARBER'S SHOP
Words and music by John C. Baker
Boston: Keith's Publishing House, ©1845.

1. Our notions rightly kettled up,
No one a doubt can harbour
That all the world's a barber's shop
And ev'ry man a barber,
And ev'ry man a barber,
And ev'ry man a barber,
Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
And ev'ry man a barber.

2. The farmer, he's a barber's friend,
And ready in a trice, sir,
To lather with a recommend,
And shave us with a price, sir,
And shave us with a price, sir,
And shave us with a price, sir,
Ho! Ho! Ho! Ho!
And shave us with a price, sir.

3. Mechanics, they are barbers all,
Nor lackeys at their play, sir,
They lather when for work we call,
And shave us for the pay, sir. [etc.]

4. The doctor, he's a barber too,
And lathers with a pill, sir,
And many applicants or few,
He shaves us with a bill, sir. [etc.]

5. The merchant, he's a barber, too,
Then who than he surpasses?
He lathers well fine calico,
And shaves the pretty lasses. [etc.]

6. But of all the suds-bedaubing host,
With razors whet the keenest,
The lawyers lather folks the most,
And shave mankind the cleanest. [etc.]


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Subject: Lyr Add: THAT'S WHERE MY MONEY GOES
From: Jim Dixon
Date: 03 Aug 14 - 01:04 PM

From the sheet music at Indiana University:


THAT'S WHERE MY MONEY GOES
Words by Walter Daniels; music by R. P. Lilly
Philadelphia: Joe Morris Music Co., ©1900.

1. Dick Davis ran a barber shop, the swellest in the town,
And shaved the aristocracy for many miles around.
He had ten men all hustling, and working round the place,
While money kept a-coming in from scraping ev'ry face;
But on one cloudy afternoon, his help went on a strike.
Said they, "Dick, where's our wages? Why don't you treat us right?
We've been a-working for you, yes, very near a year.
You say you have no money, Dick; where did it disappear?"

CHORUS: Why, boys, my money goes to dress my baby.
I buy her ev'rything to keep her in style.
She's worth her weight in gold, this colored* lady,
So, boys, that's where my money goes.

2. Now Dick, he is a worried man; the barbers want his life.
They just found where his money goes; he spends it on his wife.
The other day a dead swell girl came down the thoroughfare,
Which made a lot of sporty coons* all tip their hats and stare.
Just then Dick Davis walked around as proud as he could be,
And to them sporty niggers* said: "She belongs to me.
I bought that hat and diamond, and also all them clothes,
But now she's gone a-shopping, so that's where my money goes."


[* Only 3 words need to be changed to make this song acceptable today.]


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: BobL
Date: 03 Aug 14 - 04:12 PM

So - what has 3 syllables and rhymes with ha'penny? (See Jim Dixon's post of 31 Jul 14, 05:51 PM)


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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Songs about barbers
From: Ernest
Date: 03 Aug 14 - 04:15 PM

The Glasgow Barber
(trad. irish afaik)


C------------------------G--------------C---------------F---C
When I first sailed over from Belfast to Greenock
---F---------------------C---------------Am---------------G
My blood felt congealed to be leaving the sod
------------C---------------------G--------------C-----------------F----C
And my heart swelled as big as the cot I sailed over on
-------------F-------------C----------------G-----------C
When the gaffer refused to give Paddy a job.

When I landed in Glasgow inquiring for Queen Street
Called into a barber's and he bid me sit down
And he placed me so fair in the seat of a chair
And he covered me over with his grandmother's gown.

says he are you shaving? Says I are you raving?
The hair on my head I want cut in a row
And before you'd be starting I'd like you'd be certain
It's the style that we keep in the County Mayo'.

Well he placed his steel clinkers above my eye winkers
You'd swear t'was the vamps of Moll Flannigan's fan
He oiled it and streaked it he combed it and sleaked it
He oiled front and rear with his two little hands.


Says he Irish Pat you'll pay fourpence for that
It's a cut that an Irishman seldom does show
It's the ladies conceit aye and you will look neat
When you land with your friends in the County Mayo.

Ah bad luck to your soul do you think I'm a looby
The hell to your soul sure the hair was my own
It's before I'd make bargains with the barbers of Scotland
I'd sooner make bargains with the landlords at home.

Well he called in two bobbies for the take Irish Paddy
With hats on their heads like large rucks of straw
Says they Torra musha says I Arra gusha
Its a word that we use in the County Mayo.

Then I took to me stick and they took to their batons
The police and the barber I soon did put down
And I left them a mark for to buy sticking plaster
And quick took my way to the east of the town.

When I looked in the glass you'd swear I was an ass
For me lugs stood so high and me head hung so low
Bad luck to their trestles their bells and steam whistles
And hurrah for the boys from the County Mayo.


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