I have a song for everything. Seriously.
I was cleaning my room a little and organizing some papers, and found I was singing these two songs. See? A song for every walk of life. Even my subconscious has a sense of humor.
An Irish one:
Old Maid in the Garret
Now I've often heard it said from me father and me mother
That the going tae a wedding is the making of another
Well, if this be true, I will go without a biddin
O kind providence, won't you send me tae a wedding
Chorus: And its O dear me, how would it be,
if I die an old maid in a garret
Well, there's my sister Jean, she's not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen and a fella she was courting
Now she’s twenty-four with a son and a daughter
Here am I— forty-five and I've never had an offer
I can cook and I can sew and I can keep the house right tidy
Rise up in the morning and get the breakfast ready
There's nothing in this whole world would make me half so cheery
As a wee fat man to call me his own deary
So come landsman or come pinsman, come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler or come dancer, come ploughboy or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man, come fool or come witty
Come any man at all that will marry me for pity
Well now I'm away home for nobody's heeding
Nobody's heeding and nobody's pleading
I'll go away home to my own bitty garret
If I can't get a man, then I'll surely get a parrot
And a Civil War one:
The Invalid Corps
I wanted much to go to war,
And went to be examined;
The surgeon looked me o'er and o'er,
My back and chest he hammered.
Said he, "You're not the man for me,
Your lungs are much affected,
And likewise both your eyes are cock'd,
And otherwise defected."
So, now I'm with the invalids,
And cannot go and fight, sir!
The doctor told me so, you know,
Of course it must be right, sir!
While I was there a host of chaps
For reasons were exempted,
Old "pursy", he was laid aside,
To pass he had attempted.
The doctor said, "I do not like
Your corporosity, sir!
You'll "breed a famine" in the camp
Wherever you might be, sir!"
There came a fellow, mighty tall,
A "knock-kneed overgrowner",
The Doctor said, "I ain't got time
To take and look you over."
Next came along a little chap,
Who was 'bout two foot nothing,
The Doctor said, "You'd better go
And tell your marm you're coming!"
Some had the ticerdolerreou,
Some what they call "brown critters",
And some were "lank and lazy" too,
Some were too "fond of bitters".
Soime had "cork legs" and some "one eye",
With backs deformed and crooked,
I'll bet you'd laugh'd till you had cried,
To see how "cute" they looked.