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MY WORD, YOU DO LOOK QUEER (Bob Weston / Bert Lee) Stanley Holloway (Monologue) I've been very poorly but now I feel prime, I've been out today for the very first time. I felt like a lad as I walked down the road, Then I met Old Jones and he said, 'Well I'm blowed!' My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Oh, dear! You look dreadful: you've had a near shave, You look like a man with one foot in the grave.' I said, 'Bosh! l'm better; it's true I've been ill.' He said, 'I'm delighted you're better, but still, I wish you'd a thousand for me in your will. My word, you do look queer!' That didn't improve me, it quite put me back, Still, I walked farther on, and I met Cousin jack. He looked at me hard and he murmured,'Gee whiz! It's like him! It can't be! It isn't! It is! By gosh! Who'd have thought it? Well, well, I declare! I'd never have known you except for your hair. My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Your cheeks are all sunk and your colour's all gone, Your neck's very scraggy, still you're getting on. How old are you now? About fifty, that's true. Your father died that age, your mother did too. Well, the black clothes I wore then'll come in for you. My word! You do look queer!' That really upset me; I felt quite cast down, But I tried to buck up, and then up came old Brown. He stared at me hard, then he solemnly said, 'You shouldn't be out, you should be home in bed. I heard you were bad, well I heard you were gone. You look like a corpse with an overcoat on. 'My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! You'd best have a brandy before you drop dead.' So, pale as a sheet, I crawled in the'King's Head', The barmaid sobbed,'Oh you poor fellow,' and then She said, 'On the slate you owe just one pound ten, You'd better pay up, we shan't see you again. My word you do look queer!' My knees started knocking, I did feel so sad. Then Brown said, 'Don't die in a pub, it looks bad,' He said, 'Come with me, I'll show you what to do. Now I've got a friend who'll be useful to you.' He led me to Black's Undertaking Depot, And Black, with some crepe round his hat said, 'Hello, 'My word you do look queer! My word you do look queer! Now we'll fix you up for a trifling amount. Now what do you say to a bit on account?' I said,'I'm not dying.'He said,'Don't say that! My business of late has been terribly flat, But I'm telling my wife she can have that new hat! My word, you do look queer!' I crawled in the street and I murmured,'I'm done.' Then up came Old Jenkins and shouted,'Oh son!' 'My word you do look well! My word you do look well! You're looking fine and in the pink!' I shouted, 'Am I?... Come and have a drink! You've put new life in me, I'm sounder than a bell. By gad! There's life in the old dog yet. My word I do feel well!'


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