Sunday Night, When The Parlor's Full - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
Sunday Night, When the Parlor's Full. Copyright, 1877, by E. H. Harding. Words by Edward Harrigan. Music by Dave Braham. 
My Johanna lives up in Harlem, Sunday night, boys, sure I go there; Three long years her I've been a-courting, She's a beauty beyond compare; There's a kitchen, bedroom And parlor. Piano to push and pull; They throw me out in the hallway, Sunday night, when the parlor's full. 
Chorus. There's a kitchen, bedroom and parlor, a piano to push and pull. They stand me out into the hallway, Sunday night, when the parlor's full. 
My Johanna is always singin' "Hold the Fort, for I'm left behind "; "Eilleen Allanna went on a picnic," "For Heaven's sake now pull down the blind!" Pat Murphy gives recitations On the taking of Sebastopol; They set me on the refrigerator, Sunday night, when the parlor's full. 
Chorus. There's Dan Burns, the gladiator; Dionysius Carahull, Making love to sweet Johanna, Sunday night, whin the parlor's full. 
I went and spoke to Johanna's mother, Said her daughter had shaken me; Then her mother condescended To throw me into the street, you see; Then Johanna shouted "Papa!" He fell upon me like a bull; I'll keep away from sweet Johanna, Sunday night, when the parlor's full. 
Chorus. There's Syd Welsh, the whiskey brewer, in Tammany Hall, boys, he has a pull, Making love to sweet Johanna, Sunday night, when the parlor's full.