page break

The Wonderful Brass-Horn

There was a young man by the name of Duk&,
Who played the brass-horn in the Old City b&,
He blew such a blast,
That as he went past,
He rous'd all the folks, who lived in the Str&.

And there was a girl, who could not withst&
The blast of this core, who played in the b&
So she slipp'd on her hat,
And put her hair pat—
To see this young man—who played in the b&.

And when she did see him so proud, and so gr&
Marching as if he were born to comm&;
Her face it did glow,
And her heart it did go—
Right for this young man—who played in the b&.

And he nothing loath, this Mr Duk&,
At once like a brick, he goes for her h&,
He said she'd his heart,
And they never would part.
If but she would take him, as there he did st&.

To this she replied, so low, and so bl£.
That if he'd but give her—the family br&,
She would be his dear wife—
For the rest of his life,
With a joy she would yield,—being his to comm&.

So they went to the priest—as I underst&,
For they cared for nought at all contrab&.
And the altar upon,—
They were made into one,
And they called them both by the name of Duk&.

Now all you young men who would like to exp&
To old married men, and settle the l&,
Go get a brass-horn,
And sure as you're born,—
Its blast it will bring you a lady all bl&,
And you'll both get married clean out of h&.

Dedicated by permission to my very distinguished friend John Buchanan Esquire F. L. S to whom I am indebted for the idea of the brass-horn, also for the first four lines of the song.