Augustus J. McCann,
Is a hen pecked married man,
He’s been a fighting with his wife since married life began,
One night at half past three, while out upon a spree,
A Motor knocked him down and out and it nearly broke his knee;
The Chauffeur raised Mac’s head,
He said “this man is dead;” when he said “we’ll take him home”
McCann jumped up and said.
Don’t take me home, please don’t take me home,
Tell me, what did I do to you?
Oo oo oo oo have a little pity,
I’m a poor married man in search of peace I roam,
I’m with you in any thing you do but don’t take me home.
McCan made such a fight
That they locked him up that night
Next day he got six months in hail
And he said now I’m in right In jail there was no strife
He never saw his wife
He said that he’d be happy if he could stay there all his life
But after half a year
They said “get out of here”
The jailer said we’ll take you home
But Mac yelled out in fear.
McCan became so sore
That he ran off to the war
That war was like Vacation Time after all he’d fought before
He always led the fray
But he was shot one day
His comrades saw he couldn’t walk and they carried him away
Up on his cot he fell
The doctor said “well well”
We’ll send this man home to his wife
The Mac began to yell
Bryan, Vincent and Tilzer, Harry Von, "Don't Take Me Home" (1908). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 1352.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.