Up In A Back Room - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
UP IN A BACK ROOM. 
One day I got married, the truth I do state. When you have heard my sad tale, you will pity my fate, My wife makes me work both morning and night, And she swears that I never do anything right. The first night I got married, it's the truth I am sure, My wife went to bed, and I lay on the floor. But now that I'm married, I must do what I can. So pity the fate of a poor married man. 
Chorus. Up in a back room, boys, up in a back room, All among the bugs and fleas, pitying my sad doom; Up in a back room, boys, up in a back room, I wish I'd ne'er got married to be up in a back room. 
Every morning, it's true, to please her desire, She makes me get up and set light to the fire, Her breakfast I make, and she has it in bed, If I don't, why then, pity my poor bead! I've to wait till she's done, do you think that is fair? If I say a word, she will growl like a bear; I'm a tailor by trade, and my name it is Sam, And she says I'm but the ninth part of a man. Up in a back room, &c. 
I sit on my shop board a stitching all day, While my wife goes out dressed up so gay; Six months I've been married, the truth I declare, But the joys of my wedlock I have not yet shared; Before I got married, it's true, on my word, She looked like an angel, and sung like a bird; But now like a lion she will fly very soon, If I say a word, she will knock me down with the broom. Up in a back room, &c 
Last Sunday, it's true, now listen to me, She had the cheek to bring home a big soldier to tea, I said: Mr. Brown, you know it's not right, She said: hold your tongue, Sammy, I shall do as I like. They sat side by side, be gave her a kiss, I took up my sleeve board, but him I did miss, He kicked me down stairs, and hurt my back bone, So I left them together to take tea alone. Up in a back room, &c. 
I ran out of the house, I think I did right, She bolted the door, I was locked out all night. Next morning I went home, of course, like a man. But I found that the soldier had bolted with Fan. Now they have gone away, I can whistle a tune, Perhaps they have cut their sticks up in a balloon, But I don't wish to see her back any more, I can sleep on the bed instead of the floor. 
Chorus. Up in a back room, boys, up in a back room, 
Now my wife has cut her stick, I can whistle a tune; Up in a back room, boys, I'll do the best I can, I hope she'll like the soldier, my false deceitful Fan.