The Coster's Serenade - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
THE COSTER'S SERENADE. Words by Albert Chevalier. Music by John Crook. 
You ain't forgotten yet that night in May, Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is' Endon way? You fancied winkles and a pot of tea, "Four 'alf," I murmured, "'s good enough for me." "Give me a word of 'ope that I may win"-You prods me gently with the winkle pin-We was as 'appy as could be that day, Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is 'Endon way. Oh, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, waiting for you, my dear; Oh, 'Arriet, I'm wailing, wailing alone out here. When that moon shall cease to shine False will be this 'eart of mine; I'm bound to go on lovin' yer, my dear. Spoken-D'ye 'ear? 
You ain't forgotten 'ow we drove that day Down to the Welsh 'Arp, in my donkey shay; Folks with a "chyike" shouted, "Ain't they smart?" You looked a queen, me every inch a hart. Seemed that the moke was saying, "Do me proud," Mine is the nobbiest turn-out in the crowd; Me in my "pearlies "felt a toff that day, Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is 'Endon way. Oh, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, etc. 
Eight months ago and things is still the same, You're known about 'ere by your maiden name; I'm getting chivied by my pals, 'cos' why? Nightly I warbles 'ere for your reply. Slimmer 'as gone, and it's a-freezin' now. Still love's a-burnin' in my 'eart, I vow, Just as it did that 'appy night in May Down at the Welsh 'Arp, which is 'Endon way. Oh, 'Arriet, I'm waiting, etc.