Do you know it's a wonderful thing, but if anything goes wrong in our house, they always blame it on the poor old father. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. I blame it on the poor old dad.
Rum, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa, pa. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. That's a nice little ad-lib.
Ha, ha. Now poor old father gets the blame for every little thing. If baby Bill has got the croup, or if there's tin-tax in the soup, Mother caught her finger in the mangle last July.
Her language, it was flowery, so we all began to cry. Blame it on the poor old father. Blame it on the poor old dad.
He's so bright and breezy, takes things nice and easy. Blame it on the poor old father. Father's never, never sad.
If the big black cat has kittens in the hat, Blame it on the poor old dad. Blame it on the poor old father. Blame it on the poor old dad.
He's so bright and breezy, takes things nice and easy. Blame it on the poor old father. Father's never, never sad.
If the big black cat has kittens in the hat, Blame it on the poor old dad. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Ha, ha, ha, ha.
I'm very sorry for you, father. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. We've a lively family of kids, there's twenty-three.
And everywhere you chance to roam, our house is called the children's home. Yesterday somebody brought another one to us. We shouted, rule Britannia!
Then all cried, don't make a fuss. But blame it on the poor old father. Blame it on the poor old dad.
He's so bright and breezy, takes things nice and easy. Blame it on the poor old father. Father's never, never sad.
It's a darn good job, here's another thirty bob, So blame it on the poor old dad. Blame it on the poor old father. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Dad, he's so bright and... Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. So blame it on the poor old father.
Father's never, never sad. It's a darn good job, here's another thirty bob, So blame it on the poor old dad. Blame it on the poor old father.
Blame it on the poor old dad. He's so... Now, I can't hear a soul singing, you know.
Where are you, Dad? Are you there? Here I am, my boy.
Here I am, my boy. What a voice you've got tonight. I want you to sing this chorus, Dad.
Blame it on the poor old father. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Dad. Offside, Dad, offside.
Now then, Mother, come on, you join in. I don't like to. Oh, I don't like to.
Go on, don't be afraid. Blame it on the poor old father. Whoa, whoa, Mother, whoa.
You're in the right key for the wrong room. Now then, little lady, come on, you join in. Blame it on the poor old father.
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. That's not the way to sing it. You want to sing it like this, a nice full voice.
You like a... Blame it on the poor old father. Blame it on the poor old dad.
He's so bright and breezy. Takes things nice and easy. See how I say that, you know?
Nice and easy. Blame it on the poor old father. That's a lovely tone, eh?
It sounds like Caruso. I don't think. Good night, all.
Transcribed by AI from the recording above. These are noisy hundred-year-old cylinders, so expect misheard words and the occasional invented line — trust your ears over the text.
Audio public domain, courtesy of the UCSB Cylinder Audio Archive. Transcript CC BY 4.0. Free to reuse, including commercially, with credit.
Billy Williams 1878–1915
Born Richard Isaac Banks in Melbourne, Williams reached England in 1899 and became, in the years before the First World War, probably the most popular recording artist in the British Empire. From 1906 he was billed as “The Man in the Velvet Suit” and wore one on stage, coming off wringing wet each night. The song everyone knew him for was “When Father Papered the Parlour”. His career peaked around 1912, when he appeared in the first Royal Command Performance; he was taken ill late in 1914 and did not recover from surgery, dying in Sussex in March 1915 at the age of 37.
Written from Wikipedia. Corrections welcome.