A fun 1921 song about a couple who laugh in the face of their adversities.
words by Gus Kahn & Raymond B. Egan
music by Richard A. Whiting
The sheet music:
Accompaniment track:
Lyrics
- Bill collectors gather ’round and rather
haunt the cottage next door
Men the grocer and butcher sent
Men who call for the rent
But within a happy chappy and his bride of only a year
Seem to be so cheerful
Here’s an earfull of the chatter you hear
Chorus
Every morning, every evening, ain’t we got fun
Not much money, Oh, but honey, ain’t we got fun
The rent’s unpaid, dear, we haven’t a bus
But smiles were made, dear, for people like us
In the winter in the summer, don’t we have fun
Times are bum and getting bummer, still we have fun
There’s nothing surer, the rich get rich
And the poor get poorer
In the meantime, in between time, ain’t we got fun
- Just to make their trouble nearly double
Something happened last night
To their chimney a gray bird came
Mister Stork is his name
And I’ll bet two pins a pair of twins
Just happened in with the bird
Still they’re very gay and merry
Just at dawning I heard
Chorus
Every morning, every evening, don’t we have fun
Twins and cares, dear, come in pairs, dear
Don’t we have fun
We’ve only started as mommer and pop
Are we downhearted, I’ll say that we’re not
Landlords mad and getting madder, ain’t we got fun
Times are bad and getting badder, still we have fun
There’s nothing surer
The rich get rich and the poor get children
In the meantime, in between time, ain’t we got fun
- When the man who sold ’em carpets told ’em
He would take them away
They said “Wonderful here’s our chance
Take them up and we’ll dance”
And when burglars came and robb’d them taking
All their silver they say
Hubby yelled, “We’re famous for they’ll name us
In the papers today”
Chorus
Night or daytime, it’s all play-time, ain’t we got fun
Hot or cold days, any old days, ain’t we got fun
If wifie wishes, to go to a play
Don’t wash the dishes, just throw them away
Street car seats are awful narrow, ain’t we got fun
They won’t smash up our Pierce Arrow, we ain’t got none
They’ve cut my wages, but my income tax
Will be so much smaller
When I’m paid off, I’ll be laid off, ain’t we got fun
Sung here by Fred Feild: