And her golden hair was hanging down her back

UK Sheet Music version from monologues.co.uk

There was once a country maiden came to London for a trip
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
She was weary of the country so she gave her folks the slip
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
It was once a vivid auburn but her rivals called it red
So she thought she could be happier with another shade instead
And she stole the washing soda and applied it to her head
And her golden hair came streaming down her back.

But Oh Flo, such a change you know
When she left the village she was shy
But alas and alack she’d gone back
With a naughty little twinkle in her eye.

She had a country accent and a captivating glance
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
She wore some little diamonds that came from sunny France
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
She wandered out in London for a breath of evening air
And strayed into a palace that was fine and large and fair
It might be in a circus or it might be in a square
But her golden hair was hanging down her back.

And London people were so nice to artless little Flo’
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
That she had been persuaded to appear in a tableau
Where her golden hair was hanging down her back
She posed beside a marble bath upon some marble stairs
Just like a water nymph or an advertisement of Pears
And if you ask me to describe the costume that she wears
Well, her golden hair is hanging down her back.

She met a young philanthropist, a friend of Missus Chant
And her golden hair was hanging down her back
He lived in Peckham Rye with an extremely maiden aunt
Who had not a hair a hanging down her back
The lady looked upon him in her fascinating way
And what the consequences were I really cannot say
But when his worthy maiden aunt remarked his coat next day
Well, some golden hairs were hanging down the back.

Version from US broadside

There was once a simple maiden, came to New York on a trip,
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.
Her cheeks were like the roses, she'd a pout upon her lip,
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.
When she landed at the station here she took a little stroll,
At everything she wondered, till she lost her self-control;
Said she, "New York is quite a village, ain't. it? Bless my soul!"
And her golden hair was hanging down her back

But, oh Jane! Doesn't look the same;
When she left the village she was shy,
But alas! and alack! She's gone back
With a naughty little twinkle in her eye. 

She toddled down Broadway, a bashful smile upon	her face,
And her golden hair was hanging down her back;	
A bit of nice blue ribbon kept her ringlets in their place,
For her golden hair was hanging down her back.	
Of course, she knew her manners, she'd been taught to he polite;
So when a gent said " Hem, good evening!" she said "Hem,good night!"
Said she, "I am a stranger here, I hope you'll treat me right."
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.

She took his arm in confidence, she liked his pleasant ways, 
And her golden hair was hanging down her back;
At all the damsels passing by she stared in great amaze, 
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.
She told hint she was thirsty; 'Oh, all right," said he, "good biz."
He took her to Delmonico's and treated her to fizz; 
Said she, " I think it's nicer than a glass of milk, it is." 
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.

They drank until the artless man so very weary grew,
And golden hair was hanging down her back:
She took his chain and ticker, and his diamond breastpin, too,
And her golden hair was hanging down her back.	 
Then silently she left him as he slumbered in a chair,
Into the street site wandered with a very simple air —
She would have carried off the stove if there had been one there,
And her golden hair was hanging down her back

Now, gentle folks, I warn you all to shun the simple maid, 
When her golden hair is batwing down her back;
If any such you run across just don't you be afraid, 
When her golden hair is hanging down her back.
Just skip the gutter, cross the street, or take another lane,
Or dodge the corner, take a cab, or catch a railway train:
And as you're flying up the street just sing her this refrain:
"Oh, your golden hair is hanging down your back