Spinster Jean At Number
[Living in Scotland in the 1880s!]
Lyrics composed by John Henderson on the 19th of November, 2014
to a 1915 song called 'The
It's very hard, believe me, to live in numbered rows,
And witness just how ev'ry Miss but me have their beaux.
Yes lads come calling up and down but me they seem to shun;
I'm sure none has been pressed enough to call at Number One !
I'm sick of all the 'rat-ta-tats' oft made at Number Four;
Near Number Three I often see, smart gents at its door.
It's also true at Number Two, lots hope to get some fun;
It's very hard when they don't knock at all at Number One !
Beth Weir I hear got someone, to suit her eye and mind
By sitting near her window pane without net or blind.
E'en when I'm on my balcony which Beth has never done
The 'arts' that thrive at Number Five don't come to Number One !
It's hard when busy is our street with fine men strolling by
Like shy Jack Penn at Number Ten, how for him I sigh.
And Mrs Gray who o'er the way has Jim an only son
Who really must be unaware that I'm at Number One !
At Number Nine lives Sandy, and he has loads of cash,
But well-known as 'no ladies' man' who's not flash or rash.
In Sev-en half-way down the street is Ron who loves to run,
So never knocks on any doors far less at Number One !
My Mum is saddened by my plight and helps me dry my tears,
Though happy if I single stay for her latter years.
When Sister Ruth calls in on us, because she is a nun,
She blesses me wholeheartedly alone in Number One !
But I'm not old and wrinkled, or awkward in my gait,
Nor ugly like the 'shot-gun' bride who fled Number Eight.
At Number Six they say Rose Wickes weighs almost half a ton,
But Cupid smiled and let her wed then flew past Number One !
I'm tired of all the goings-on while living in our row,
And this sad song I'm singing is just wors'ning my woe.
So now I'll stop this cavilling that's blunt enough to stun.
Oh! there's no luck about our house known here as Number One !