MILDRED McGee was a beautiful blond,
As fair as peroxide could make her.
She was never so shy that a man going by
Would imagine that she was a Quaker.
She had suitors that called every night in the week
And one of them worked in a shoe shop,
But her ‘favor-ite’ man was a chap named McGann
Who was boss of a gang in a glue shop.
Her folks used to scoff at young Patrick McGann
For they wished her to marry a plumber;
But Mildred was true to the maker of glue,
Though she flirted at times with a drummer.
Though she flirted at times with the pharmacist’s clerk,
And she flirted at times with the baker,
She stuck to McGann, the glue factory man.
Not a bit could her fond parents shake her.
‘You’re in awful bad odor,’ she said, ‘with my folks,
When you come they both turn up their noses;
But I said when they kicked, that the plumber they’ve picked
Isn’t scented with attar of roses.
When a girl is in love with a fellow, I’ve found
There’s something inside her that rages;
An’ I’d rather be true to a sweetheart like you
Than a sweet-smelling chap with no wages.
‘There’s many fine fellows who brag of their jobs
An’ spend all their coin in a brew shop;
An’ take it from me, I’d much rather be
The wife of the man in a glue shop.
Not all of us girls can get married to dudes
An’ college professors an’ scholars;
With you I’m content, I’ll not stop at a scent
So long as you bring in the dollars.’