20.
MONEY PAY-TRIOTS
  (Tune: Clementine)

Join the party that is ruling,
Hand the boss what brains you've got,
Play the rooster, be a booster,
Then you'll be a patriot.

CHORUS:
Oh, my country! Oh, my country!
How I love each blooming spot.
Ain't it funny, how for money,
One can be a pay-triot?

Go to church and talk like honey;
Kiss the flag and shout a lot,
That will make you, for they'll take
  you
For a blooming patriot.

CHORUS:

Boom your business, boom your
  business,
Brother love, it matters not;
Use your gall, sir, 'do' them all,
  sir,
Then you'll be a patriot.

CHORUS:
 

THE POPULAR WOBBLY

I'm as mild mannered man as can be,
And I've never done them harm that I
  can see;
Still on me they put a ban, and they
  throw me in the can;
They go wild, simply wild over me.

They accuse me of rascality,
But I can't see why they always pick
  on me,
I'm as gentle as a lamb, but they
  take me for a ram;
They go wild, simply wild over me.

Oh, the bull, he went wild over me,
And he held his gun where everyone
  could see;
He was breathing rather hard, when
  he saw my union card;
He went wild, simply wild over me.

                         (contd.)

Then the judge, he went wild over me,
And I plainly saw we never could agree;
So I let the man obey, what his
   conscience had to say;
He went wild, simply wild over me.

Oh the jailer, he went wild over me.
He looked me up and he threw away the
   key;
It seems to be the rage, so they keep
   me in this cage;
They go wild, simply wild ever me.

They go wild, simply wild over me;
I'm referring to the bedbug and the
   flea;
They disturb my slumber deep, and I
   murmur in my sleep;
They go wild, simply wild over  me.

Will the roses grow wild over me,
When I'm gone into the land that is to
   be?
When my soul and body part, in the
   stillness of my heart,
Will the roses grow wild over me?
 

ROCK-A-BYE BABY

Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top,
When you grow up, you'll work in a
   shop;
When you are married, your wife will
   work too,
So that the rich will have nothing
   to do. 

Rock-a-bye, baby, on the tree top,
When you grow old, your wages will
    stop;
When you have spent the little you've
  saved --
Hush-a-bye baby, off to the grave.
 


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