Martha the milkman’s daughter

Words from Poet's Box Microfiche Collection (Glasgow) (7 Oct 1865)

The object that you now behold 
Once loved a darling fairy, 
In the shape of a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl. 
Whose father kept a dairy. 
Not far from the middle of the Old Kent Road, 
How well I knew it rather; 
She lived with her daddy, a cross old buffer, 
And my loved one's name was Martha. 

[Spoken.-Sweet Martha.] 
Ah, I was once as happy as a young cock robin, 
Or the pretty little fishes in the water; 
Those days are gone, for now I mourn 
For Martha, the milkman's daughter. 

She served the milk in hap'orths and penn'orths, 
From the bottom of a block-tin pail; 
The only cow that her father kept 
Was the one with an iron tail. 
And that was kept in the little back yard, 
Up against the white-washed wall, 
It always yielded plenty of- 
Well, I mustn't tell you all. 

[Spoken.-So excuse me.]

When the old boy used to "walk his chalks," 
'Twas then I'd call on Martha; 
I loved the very ground she trod, 
But I'd strong objections to her father. 
Unexpected he one day returned, 
And upon me placed a check; 
For he nearly shook me inside out, 
And vowed he'd break my neck. 

[Spoken.-The brute!]

Then I used to wander near the house 
In hopes my love to see; 
She'd take a survey from the second floor front, 
In hopes that she'd see me. 
One day she threw a "billet doux," 
Which made my blood turn cold, 
Her daddy demanded that she should wed 
An old codger with lots of gold. 

[Spoken- The root of all evil.]

In time the wedding day arrived, 
When she was to be bound 
To a rich old fool she couldn't love, 
But the bride could not be found. 
They searched the house and scoured the streets, 
When at last they did discover 
A note to say that she'd gone away, 
To die for her true lover. 

[Spoken.-And that was me.]

Next morning in the pure, bright Thame, 
Her lovely form was found, 
With all her clothes in such a mess, 
Her darling self she'd drowned. 
From the horrible effects of sugar of lead 
Her daddy died that night, 
And the verdict the coroner's inquest found 
Was- " It served the old fool right." 

[Spoken.-And so it did.]

In the middle of the night I jump upright
For I dream such dreams while sleeping; 
That the ghost of Martha, dressed in white, 
Comes to my bedside weeping. 
Without that lovely sky-blue maid, 
I ne'er can be a liver; 
If I knew how to swim, or wasn't afraid, 
I'd throw myself in the river. 

[Spoken.-Ah, that I would]