SAMSON AND DELILAH
Twas in the land of Palestine, for so the stories state,
Young Samson met all comers and whipped any man his weight.
He never missed a chance to fight;
He swung a mean and wicked right,
Although at Gaza one dark night,
They say he got the gate.
Delilah was the loveliest of all the local vamps,
And on young Samson’s form she cast her large alluring lamps.
“I love a manly man,” she’d say.
Her work was clever for her day,
Till Samson fell the same old way
As many other champs.
“Don’t think that I’m inquisitive,” she said, “You got me wrong.
But tell your own Delilah, Sam, what makes you big and strong.”
He said, “My strength is in my hair.
I’ve never seen a barber’s chair.
No man can lick me while I wear
My hair and whiskers long.”
So late that night Delilah did a most artistic job.
“I really hate to trim that guy,” she murmured with a sob.
She started with an oil shampoo,
She clipped his beard and moustache too,
His curly locks she gave a new
And fashionable bob.
Next morning Sam awoke and found he’d scarcely strength to rise.
“That jane has played a dirty trick!” he said in some surprise.
“I’m off these oriental queens,
I must cut out these bedroom scenes–“
Just then in dashed the Philistines
And burned out both his eyes.
They dragged him to their temple, and they bound him fast in chains,
And all the local boys dropped in, and all the local janes.
“You ought to trim your hair a bit,”
They said, “and put a wave in it.”
Those natives had a pretty wit,
Though somewhat shy on brains.
Then Samson grabbed the pillars of the temple on each side,
And with a mighty push he sent the columns flying wide.
The roof came tumbling on his head,
The Philistines were all knocked dead.
“Well, that brought down the house,” he said,
And turned around and died.