The Tin Gee Gee

The Tin Gee Gee 
by Fred Cape

I was strolling one day down the Lawther Arcade,
That place for children's toys,
Where you can purchase a dolly or spade
For your good little girls and boys.
And as I passed a certain stall, said a wee little voice to me:
O, I am a Colonel in a little cocked hat, and I ride on a tin Gee Gee;
O, I am a Colonel in a little cocked hat, and I ride on a tin Gee Gee.

Then I looked and a little tin soldier I saw,
In his little cocked hat so fine.
He'd a little tin sword that shone in the light
As he led a glittering line of tin hussars,
Whose sabers flashed in a manner à la military.
And that little tin soldier he rode at their head,
So proud on his tin Gee Gee.

Then that little tin soldier he sobbed and he sighed,
So I patted his little tin head.
What vexes your little tin soul? said I,
And this is what he said:
I've been on this stall a very long time,
And I'm marked twenty-nine, as you see;
Whilst just on the shelf above my head,
There's a fellow marked sixty-three.

Now he hasn't got a sword and he hasn't got a horse,
And I'm quite as good as he.
So why mark me at twenty-nine,
And him at sixty-three?
There's a pretty little dolly girl over there,
And I'm madly in love with she.
But now that I'm only marked twenty-nine,
She turns up her nose at me,
She turns up her little wax nose at me,
And carries on with sixty-three.

And, oh, she's dressed in a beautiful dress;
It's a dress I do admire,
She has pearly blue eyes that open and shut
When worked inside by a wire,
And once on a time when the folks had gone,
She used to ogle at me.
But now that I'm only marked twenty-nine,
She turns up her nose at me.
She turns up her little snub nose at me,
And carries on with sixty-three.

Cheer up, my little tin man, said I,
I'll see what I can do.
You're a fine little fellow, and it's a shame
That she should so treat you.
So I took down the label from the shelf above,
And I labeled him sixty-three,
And I marked the other one twenty-nine,
Which was very, very wrong of me,
But I felt so sorry for that little tin soul,
As he rode on his tin Gee Gee.

Now that little tin soldier he puffed with pride,
At being marked sixty-three,
And that saucy little dolly girl smiled once more,
For he'd risen in life, do you see?
And it's so in this world; for I'm in love
With a maiden of high degree;
But I am only marked twenty-nine,
And the other chap's sixty-three—
And a girl never looks at twenty-nine
With a possible sixty-three!