"Does Your Mother Know You're Out?" [circa 1840s]
Comic Song.
Written by W. H. C. West. 
The Music Composed by W. West.
Sung by 
Mr. Fitzwilliam, 
Mr. Buckingham, 
and 
Mr. Howell.

New York: Firth & Hall, 1 Franklin Sqre.
Lithography of Endicott
[Source: 047/011@Levy]

1. I am the  laughing stock of all, 
No rest, no peace have I,  
The young, the old, the great and small 
All at me have a shy. 
I think its very, very hard, 
And so would you no doubt 
If they cried whene’er you walk’d abroad. 
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

2. My station is respectable,
There’s nothing about me
In the slightest way detectable
Of the apeing vain cockney.
I keeps my os, I dresses well,
But as I rides about,
The cry is Ho! my precious swell!
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

3. Then if I ever fishing go,
Folks will not let me be,
What’s mirth to them to me is woe,
Altho’ p’rhaps but a spree.
Intently when I sometimes try
Fly fishing to catch trout
Some villain will come up and cry
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

4. It’s really quite a misery
To be so much annoy’d,
In fearing this while quizery
Friend and foe I like avoid.
From post to pillar I am chas’d,
And driven like a scout;
One to ask at ev’ry corner’s plac’d,
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

5. I once the nuisance to excape
Was forc’d a cab to call,
But the fellars out of spite did gape,
And wouldn’t hear me bawl;
Then my pursuers tipt the wink,
The cards set up a shout,
(I felt so queer you cannot think)
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

6. For my part nothing can I see
About my person flaring,
Why they should push their fun at me,
And saucily be starring.
’Tis shameful, and with rage I burn,
That ev’ry stupid lout
Should cry whichever way I turn,
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

7. To a ball last night I went,
And happy might have been,
A pleasant ev’ning there have spent
With a damsel, beauty’s queen.
But as a Waltz we twisted,
She with an artful pout,
Ask’d as not to be resisted,
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?

8. My mind’s made up, I will not stay
In town to be divided,
But to some silent glen away,
Where my grief can be subsided.
I’ll seek some shelt’ring peaceful nook,
Where none can come and rout,
Or question me with fiendish look,
DOES YOUR MOTHER KNOW YOU’RE OUT?