The Ratcatcher’s Daughter

American - Winslow Homer

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Title: The Ratcatcher’s Daughter, Composed By: Sam. Cowell, Published By: Oliver Ditson & Co., Location: Boston

Cover Lithograph By: Winslow Homer (1836-1910)

Winslow Homer is regarded by many as the greatest American painter of the nineteenth century. Born in Boston and raised in rural Cambridge, he began his career as a commercial printmaker, first in Boston and then in New York, where he settled in 1859. For Homer, the late 1860s and the 1870s were a time of artistic experimentation and prolific and varied output. He resided in New York City, making his living chiefly by designing magazine illustrations and building his reputation as a painter.

Not long ago in Vestminster
There lived a rat catcher’s daughter
But she didn’t quite live in Vestminster
Cos she lived t’other side of the water
Her Father caught rats and she sold sprats
All round and about that quarter
And the gentlefolk all took off their hats
To the pretty little rat catcher’s daughter.

Chorus: Doodle dee, doodle dum, di dum doodle da

She vore no ‘at upon ‘er head
No cap nor dainty bonnet
The ‘air of ‘er ‘ead all ‘ung down her back
Like a bunch of carrots upon it
Ven she cried “Sprats” in Vestminster
She ‘ad such a sweet loud voice
You could hear her all down Parliament Street
As far as Charing Cross, sir

Chorus:

Now rich and poor, both far and near
In matrimony sought her
But at friends and foes she turn’d up her nose
Did the putty little rat catchers daughter
For there was a man, sold lily-vite sand
In cupid’s net had caught her
And right over head and heals in love
Vent the putty little rat catcher’s daughter,

Chorus:

Now lily-vite sand so ran in her head
As she vent along the Strand, Oh
She forgot as she’d got sprats on her head
And cried “D’y vant any lily-vite sand, Oh”
The folks, amazed, all thought her crazed
As she vent along the Strand, Oh
To see a gal with sprats on her head
Cry “D’y vant any lily-vite sand, Oh,”

Chorus:

Now rat catcher’s daughter so ran in his head
He couldn’t tell vat he was arter
So instead of crying “D’y vant any sand”
He cried “D’y vant any rat catcher’s daughter?”
His donkey cocked his ears and laughed
He couldn’t think vat he was arter
Ven he heard his lily-vite sandman cry
“D’y vant any rat catcher’s daughter?”

Chorus:

They both agreed to married be
Upon next Easter Sunday
But rat catcher’s daughter she had a dream
That she wouldn’t be alive on Monday
She vent once more to buy some sprats
And she tumbled into the water
And down to the bottom, all kiver’d up with mud
Vent the putty little rat catcher’s daughter.

Chorus:

Ven lily-vite sand ‘e heard the news
His eyes ran down with water
Said ‘e in love I’ll constant prove
And – blow me if I’ll live long arter
So he cut ‘is throat vith a pane of glass
And stabbed ‘is donkey arter
So ‘ere is an end of lily-vite Sand
Donkey, and the rat catcher’s daughter.

Chorus:

The neighbours all, both great and small
They flocked unto ‘er ‘berrein’
And vept that a gal who’d cried out sprats
Should be as dead as any ‘herrein’
The Coroner’s inquest on her sot
At the sign of the Jack i’ the Vater
To find what made life’s sand run out
Of the putty little rat catcher’s daughter.

Chorus:

The verdict was that too much vet
This poor young woman died on
For she made an ole in the Riviere Thames
Vot the penny steamers ride on
‘Twas a haccident they all agreed
And nuffink like self-slaughter
So not guiltee o’ fell in the sea
They brought in the rat catcher’s daughter.

Chorus: