I took my girl to a fancy ball; It was a social hop; We waited till the folks got out, And the music it did stop. Then to a restaurant we went, The best one on the street; She said she wasn't hungry, But this is what she eat: A dozen raw, a plate of slaw, A chicken and a roast, Some applesass, and sparagrass, And soft-shell crabs on toast. A big box stew, and crackers too; Her appetite was immense! When she called for pie, I thought I'd die, For I had but fifty cents. She said she wasn't hungry And didn't care to eat, But I've got money in my clothes To bet she can't be beat; She took it in so cozy, She had an awful tank; She said she wasn't thirsty, But this is what she drank: A whiskey skin, a glass of gin, Which made me shake with fear, A ginger pop, with rum on top, A schooner then of beer, A glass of ale, a gin cocktail; She should have had more sense; When she called for more, I fell on the floor, For I had but fifty cents. Of course I wasn't hungry, And didn't care to eat, Expecting every moment To be kicked into the street; She said sh'd fetch her family round, And some night we'd have fun; When I gave the man the fifty cents, This is what he done: He tore my clothes, He smashed my nose, He hit me on the jaw, He gave me a prize Of a pair of black eyes And with me swept the floor. He took me where my pants hung loose, And threw me over the fence; Take my advice, don't try it twice If you've got but fifty cents! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR TO A FRIEND WRITING ON CABARET DANCERS by EZRA POUND CHILD MARGARET by CARL SANDBURG BUCOLIC COMEDY: KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID by EDITH SITWELL |