Says I,--"Miss Moll, don't tip this gam, [3]
You knows as how it will not do;
For you I milled flash Dustman Sam [4]
Who made your peepers black and blue. [5]
Vhy, then you swore you would be kind
But you have queer'd so much of late, [6]
And always changing like the wind,
So now I'll brush and sell my skate." [7]
Buy my skate, etc.