My Son Jack - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
MY SON JACK. Copyright, 1893, by Frank Harding. Words And Music by Arthur West. Arranged by John A. Stromberg. 
Now I am a widow of thirty-six, But was married at sweet seventeen; There wasn't a boy didn't follow my cloak When I was a purty colleen, And still they are after my hand and my heart, But they're chasing my dollars as well; But the one that gels me has to know from the start, They must love Jack; the reason I'll tell, My son Jack behind my back, They tell me he's a very hard nut to crack; He comes home tight in the middle of the night, Sometimes when the day is dawning; Me oath I'll take he wins the cake, He's a jolly little rollicking, frolicking rake; He tumbles into bed with a big fat head, But he's up with the lark in the morning. 
There isn't a boy can heat him on the base, He's pitcher And always will be; There isn't a fighter can get on his face, For Jack has been known to lick three. There isn't a man in the village that hits My son Jack on the brink, but he has to cry quits; There isn't a singer sings with him a song, And the prettiest girl will be his before long.