Tiddle-a-Wink the Barber

Was thinking about Mom's piano playing and this tune popped into my head, Tiddly Winks, so looked up on web.

Here it says it is an American song, but the website is UK, which I always believed, and of course it does sound better in cockney than dixie twang, or does it?

American Old-time song lyrics from  www.traditionalmusic.co.uk

Tiddle-a-Wink the Barber  Sung by Tony Pastor.

Now Mister Tomkins had a son, who kept a barber's shop.
And being queer could not go there, so a note to his son did drop;
Said he old knave, I want a shave, I also really think.
Then is not one shaves like my son, whose name Is Tiddle-a-Wink.

Chorus.
Tiddle-a-Wlnk-Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink, the barber,
Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink-went to shave his father,
But he made a skip and cut his lip, which made the father roar,
The father knocked poor Tiddle-a-Wink bang out upon the floor.

The blood then flowed from Tomkins' mouth and very soon he found,
Where he used to put an ounce of meat there was room to put a pound;
The doctor he was quickly brought, to sew it up did try.
He looked so queer, they were all in fear, when the doctor said he must die.

Said he, I think this Tiddle-a-Wink has caused his father's death;
Then Tiddle-a-Wink with fear did blink-could scarcely catch his breath :
The father died, the son he tried some poison then to take,
But this they stopp'd and on him dropped, for making this sad mistake.

Next morn before the magistrate poor Tiddle-a-Wink they  took.
There his history to relate, and like a leaf he shook;
His solicitor soon set him free, and the people, they
Asked how the old man met his death; others they would say

Tiddle-a-Wlnk-Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink, the barber,
Tiddle-a-Wink-Tiddle-a-Wink-went to shave his father,
But he made a skip and cut his lip, which made the father roar,
The father knocked poor Tiddle-a-Wink bang out upon the floor.
___
Now you and I know the rest of the story.
Dad

In Memory of Muriel- The Preacher's Wife

In looking through a little book I have of anonymous poems this morning I found a handwritten poem by Muriel. This poem she had composed for a shower where she spoke. It was for Marion Kirk, who was engaged to a young preacher. She always found something appropriate for every occasion. I already sent a copy of it to Marion.

Thought you all would be interested in this and remembering Muriel this Christmas. It was seven years ago this week that she left us and went to her own mansion with the God she loved. Who knows what she is busy doing now, but whatever it is she will not be hindered by the frailties she left behind.

Greetings,
Don, Dad, Opa

Here is a scan of her own poem that I found. Very likely it was composed specially for the honoree and added to the other poem.

****************************

The Preacher's Wife

A preacher's wife to be ideal

Must be a woman who is real;

Not too large and not too small,

Not too short and not too tall;

Her face and form must be just fair,

She must not be at all too rare;

In dress she must be considered sane,

And yet not altogether plain.

Her house must be in perfect grace,

With everything in proper place;

Her family must not be large or small;

'Tis wrong to have no child at all,

But six or eight will never do, 

'Tis just as bad to have too few;

And folks will expect, of all things,

Her children to have angel wings.

She must lead in all the women's work

And from no task will she ever shirk;

To the Church's task she must be true;

Although to her no salary's ever due;

Oh, the wedding fees are hers perhaps,

If her husband's memory does not lapse,

But if her husband gave her all, 

Her salary, alas, would be quite small.

If God in Heaven has prepared a place,

Above the average of the race,

A mansion built in Heaven's centre,

Into which no one else can ever enter,

It is for the devoted preacher's wife

When she is done with this world of strife;

A place of quiet helpful rest,

A mansion that's the very best.