WHEN the dressmaker comes I am told to clear out,
For they don’t want me anywhere hanging about;
At seven in the morning they send me away
With:’ Don’t you come back till the close of the day;
She’ll be here for a week, and we’ve so much to do
That we can’t afford to be bothered by you.
So get up and dress,
Eat your breakfast in less
Than a jiffy! She’s coming today — clear the track!
Here’s your hat. Now, good-bye;
Move along and be spry,
You must hurry away, but, O, don’t hurry back.’
When the dressmaker comes every room in the place
Is littered with patterns and trimmings and lace;
There are snippings and cuttings from parlor to kitchen,
And stuff on each bed that the women are stitchin’;
And never a chair from the time they begin it,
But is sure to have needles and pins sticking in it.
And always they say,
At the coming of day:
‘Get up and get out just as quick as you can,
Hurry up now, Skiddoo!
This is no place for you,
When the dressmaker’s here we can’t fuss with a man.
When the dressmaker comes I am driven from home;
They hand me my hat and command me to roam,
And the meals they do get would arouse Dr. Wiley,
The chops are half cooked and the coffee is ‘riley,’
And all through the week not a kind word is said
Unto me from the morn ’till I sneak up to bed.
With a mouth full of pins
Thus my darling begins:
‘Can’t you see we are busy? We’ve no time for you,
Goodness gracious, please go,
You ‘re delaying us so,
And please don’t come back till the dressmaker’s through.’
