Nancy Wertsch Music

Text:
Won't you bring back, won't you bring back, Mrs. Murphy's chowder 
It was tuneful, every spoonful made you yodel louder 
After dinner Uncle Ben used to fill his fountain pen 
From a plate of Mrs. Murphy's chowder. 

Ice cream, cold cream, benzene, gasoline, soup-beans, string beans, floating all around 
Sponge cake, beefsteak, mistake, stomach ache, creampuffs, earmuffs, many to be found; 
Silk hats, doormats, bed slats, democrats, coco bells, doorbells, beckon you to dine 
Meatballs, fish balls, mothballs, cannonballs, come on in, the chowder's fine! 

Won't you bring back, won't you bring back, Mrs. Murphy's chowder 
From each helping you'll be yelping for a headache powder. 
If they had it where we are, you might find a Chevy car 
In a plate of Mrs. Murphy's chowder. 

Won't you bring back, won't you bring back, Mrs. Murphy's chowder 
You can pack it, you can stack it, all around the larder. 
The plumber died the other day; they embalmed him right away, 
In a bowl of Mrs. Murphy's chowder. 

George Giefer (1898)