MY MOTHER DOESNíT KNOW IíM ON THE STAGE
(T. W. Connor)
I'm cherishing a secret in my bosom
About this dreadful stage-life that I lead
I've heard it said that Pro's are decent people
But according to the papers that I read
Both actresses and actors are dead 'wrong-uns'
Whether from the 'Palace' or the 'Hippodrome'
The chaps I meet outside know I'm an actor
But I never breathe a word of it at home.
So, my mother doesn't know Iím on the stage
It would break her poor old heart if she found out
She knows I'm a deserter,
>From the Scottish Fusiliers
She knows I stole a blind-man's can,
That got me seven years!
She knows I've been connected
With a gang of West-End Pests
And the police have had me twice inside the cage
And she knows I mix with ladies that have got a shady past
But my mother doesn't know I'm on the stage.
Sometimes she sees the powder on my clothing
And then it's such a nuisance to explain
If she thought that it was powder she'd go crazy
Of course, I have to tell her it's cocaine.
The day she met me out with Gladys Cooper
She started screaming, "Murder!" and "Police!"
And would have caused a dreadful scene in public
So I told her that the girl was 'Crippen's' niece.
'Cos', my mother doesn't know I'm on the stage
And when I draw six hundred pounds each week
If she knew where it came from
Sheíd shoot me like a dog
So I told her I'd stole the moneybox
From an Irish Synagogue
She can think that I'm a murderer
Before she'll know the truth
I have to have respect for her old age
And she knows that I'm a bigamist, a blackguard and a crook
But thank Heaven she don't know I'm on the stage.
(Contributed by Bill Huntley - July 2007)