You Get More Like Your Dad Every Day


A. W. AUNER’S CARD JOB PRINTING ROOMS Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.

You Get More Like Your Dad Every Day.

They say as the cock crows the young ones will learn,
At least it’s been so in my case,
For ever since I can remember, I know
I always have been a scape-grace,
At gammoning people I took a delight,
And when I’ve play’d some little game,
Whene’er I’ve gone home and acquainted my dad,
He’s always sure to exclaim,

I was barely fourteen when I started a pipe,
And also to court I began;
I went into taverns and called for beer,
And fancied myself quite a man.
I remember the first time my friends saw me home
I had to be carried to bed,
Instead of chastising, my dad only smiled,
And said as he shook his old head

In wrenching off, knocking and pulling door bells,
And spreeing I took a delight;
But there’s one thing I used to like better than all,
’Twas bothering Bobbies at night.
And after I’ve thrown from the top of a wall,
A stone at a poor peeler’s tile,
And when my old dad chanced to hear of the joke,
He’d frequently say with a smile.

I am naw most addicted to flirting and fun,
In fact, I make love to excess,
And have promised to marry so many dear girls,
At last I’v got into a mess;
There are Susan and Annie, and Florence and Kate,
Who’ve all had a promise from me.
And when I told father, he roared with delight,
And cried with a slap on his knee

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