My wedding day: Half past nine

AKA Half past nine
My wedding day
Next Monday morning is my wedding day
First Published 1921
Writer/composer Charles Collins Roud RN30005

Music Hall Performers Nellie Wallace
Folk performances Collected from the singing of:
Lane, Ernie ; England : Gloucestershire : 1993		 

From monologues.co.uk via the Internet Archive:

I'm longing for next Monday 'cos I'm going to tie the knot
With little Georgie Puddingy-Pie, a nice young man I've got
And when the parson says the word that makes two into one
I want you all to just come round and join us in the fun.

For next Monday morning is my wedding day
When the Supper's over if the company wants to stay
Me and my Georgie we shall decline
We're going to blow the candles out at half past nine.

Now when we get back from the church, and the friends have all been in
And wished us joy and happiness in little drops of gin - hic - Oh dear
We want to both be on our own, I think it's only fair
You may be sure that we don't want a lot of people there.

Now after we've had supper, I shall soon shut up the show
I will cut them all a slice of cake, and tell 'em all to go
And when I take the Vee of orange blossoms off me head
I shall tell them all it's time that we, were fast asleep in bed.

A song from the 1920s with words and music by Charles Collins., performed by Nellie Wallace whose brief biography appears below. It featured in the repertoire of Ernie Lane, a traditional singer from Gloucestershire. Not to be confused with Half past nine, a hit in the early 1890s …

Nellie Wallace sings Half-past nine, from archive.com

Nellie Wallace (1870-1948) was often described as “the greatest grotesque comedienne of the halls”. She was born to a family of Music Hall performers and toured with her sisters as a child entertainer in the 1880s. As an adult she played in “provincial” halls for many years without enjoying any great success. Eventually the years of hard slog paid off and she enjoyed great success after her London debut in 1903. Wallace used make-up and costume to exaggerate her “grotesque” appearance and she drew comedy from self-deprecating material in which she could not understand her inability to “attract a man”. She collapsed and died in 1948 after singing A boy’s best friend is his mother at the London Palladium. Her curtain speech gives a taste of her risque humour:

A man may kiss a maid goodbye,
The sun may kiss a butterfly,
The morning dew may kiss the grass,
And you my friends… farewell.

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