Wait Till You Get It

Ten illustrated Songs on Notepaper, mailed to any Address on. receipt of 50 cts. Published by Chas. Magnus, 12 Frankfort St., N.Y.

Wait till you get it.

Of late, around town, a new by-word’s come out—
You’ll hear it wherever you wander about;
Ask a friend for to lend you two dollars or three,
And the answer he’ll give you it surely will be—

Election-time coming, a candidate runs
To the stump, which he mounts, firing off his big guns;
’Mong the boys of the ward his money he’ll spend free,
Saying, “I must have the office”—the answer will be—

A fellow get’s drafted—he vows it’s too much;
He ain’t got “three hundred”—goes in for a crutch,
Saying, “I must have exemption, you see that I’m lame?”
But the keen provost-marshal is up to his game,

A fancy policeman, that stands in Broadway,
Escorts a young lad across so AU FAIT:
Then he tips her a wink—“What’s your number, my dear?”
But she gives him a smile, as she says, “Sir I fear

A fellow at policy goes it quite strong
In hopes a big hit will some time come along;
Spends all his spare change, till he cleans himself out,
’Cause the man with the slips says, “you’ll hit ’em, no doubt

A lover sits courting the girl he adores:
In the room overhead them the “old people” snores;
He asks for to kiss her—she says, “No, you shant;
I ain’t going to let you—I know what you want;

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