“Au knows her reet weel,” says Neddy,
“Well, her, my lad, I’d have you woo,”--
“She’s but so so,” thought Neddy.
“But tell me feythur, when au goa to woo,
Whot au mun say, aun what au mun do,
For if au knowe, au’m a Turk or a Jew,
But au’ll do whot au con,” says Neddy.
Says farmer Hodge “Come, listen, my son,”
Straight pricked up his ears, did Neddy,
“And I’ll tell thee the way thy mother I won,”
“Now for some fun,” thought Neddy.
“I wink’d, and I blink’d, and I look’d mighty shy,
At her, askance I threw a sheep’s eye,
Till she no longer my suit could deny;”
“Au’ll do it, by Gour,” says Neddy.
So, early next day, to a butcher he went,
Right full of glee was Neddy,
And three or four shillings in sheep’s eyes he spent,
On the wings of love flew Neddy.
And when to the damsel he came to woo,
Out of his pocket some sheep’s eyes drew,
Which one by one at the damsel he threw,
“Au have hur, cock-sure,” says Neddy.
The delicate damsel stood with surprise,
Still firing away kept Neddy,
“What the deuce do you mean by these nasty sheep’s eyes?”
“Ask my feythur abewt it,” says Neddy.
The joke was so good, she could not withstand,
And said, “My purse and money are at your command,”
And dropt him a curtsey, and gave him her hand,
“Sheep’s eyes for ever!” cried Neddy.
_CAB, CAB, CAB._[23]
I GOES out a cab driving,
And oft the long day through,
In spite of all contriving,
I scarcely make a do.
A Hansom Cab I’ve got,
A handsome horse to trot,
Cab, Cab, Cab, your honour, Cab,
I’ll take you like a shot.
Now, If you’ll hear my ditty,
I’ll tell how I was done,
By a fat man in the City,
Of two and twenty stone.
I plied at Holborn Hill,
Says he, to Pentonville,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I want a Cab,
Drive fast and show your skill.
My horse’s eyes I kivered,
While he got in; you know
If he’d see’d his weight he’d differed
And perhaps refused to go.
To Pentonville I went,
When to me says this here gent,
Cab, Cab, Cab, here’s some mistake,
’Tis Pimlico I meant.
To Pimlico I took him,
My horse as you’d suppose,
This job did nearly cook him,
When again the check string goes.
He says to me, Hallo!
Hold hard a bit, go slow,
Cab, Cab, Cab, you’re wrong again,
Turn back and drive to Bow.
I didn’t like to grumble,
But mounted it once more,
All the way to Bow did trundle,
Where he stopped me as before.
Says he, when there he’d rode,
This isn’t my abode,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I think you’re drunk,
This ain’t the Edgware Road!
Of course I felt vexatious,
But I my temper kept,
To Edgware Road, good gracious,
I took him every step.
My horse was quite done brown,
And I began to frown,
Cab, Cab, Cab, what are you at?
I live at Horseleydown.
To Horseleydown I drive him,
When my horse lay down--don’t grin--
But shelter none would give him,
Think’s I, he’s got no tin!
Where shall I now repair?
To the devil--I don’t care--
Not there, I guess, says I, unless
You give me my back fare!
_THE RUSH LIGHT._[24]
SIR SOLOMON SIMONS when he did wed,
Blush’d black as a crow, his fair lady did blush light,
The clock struck twelve, they were both tuck’d in bed,
In the chimney a Rush light,
A little farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
A little Farthing Rush light.
Sir Solomon gave his Lady a nudge,
Cries he, Lady Simons there’s vastly too much light,
Then, Sir Solomon, says she, to get up you can’t grudge,
And blow out the Rush light
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Sir Solomon then out of bed pops his toes,
And vastly he swore, and very much did curse light,
And then to the Chimney, Sir Solomon he goes,
And he puff’d at the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
The little Farthing Rush light.
Lady Simons gets out in her night-cap so neat,
And over the carpet my lady did brush light,
And there Sir Solomon she found in a heat,
Puffing at the Rush light.
Then she puff’d at the Rush light,
But neither of them both,
Could blow out the Rush light.
Sir Solomon and lady, their breath quite gone,
Rang the bells in a rage, determined to crush light,
Half asleep in his shirt then up came John,
And he puff’d at the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
But neither of the three
Could blow out the Rush light.
Cook, Coachee, men and maids, very near all in buff,
Came, and swore, in their lives they never met with such light,
And each of the family by turns had a puff,
At the little Farthing Rush light,
The curst Farthing Rush light,
But none of the family
Could blow out the Rush light.
The Watchman at last went by, crying One,
Here, Watchman, come up, than you we might on worse light,
Then up came the Watchman, the Bus’ness was done,
For he turn’d down the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
So he put out the Rush light.
_IF I HAD A DONKEY WOT WOULDN’T GO._
IF I had a donkey wot wouldn’t go,
D’ye think I’d wallop him? no, no, no!
But gentle means I’d try, d’ye see,
Because I hate all cruelty;
If all had been like me, in fact,
There’d have been no occasion for Martin’s[25] Act,
Dumb animals to prevent being crack’d,
On the head.
_Chorus._
If I had a donkey wot wouldn’t go,
I never would wollop him, no, no, no!
I’d give him some hay, and cry Gee! who!
And come up, Neddy.
What makes me mention this, the more,
I see’d that cruel chap, Bill Bore,
Whilst he was a crying out his greens,
His donkey wollop with all his means.
He hit him over the head and thighs,
He brought the tears into my eyes,
At last my blood began to rise,
And I said, etc.
Bill turned to me and said, “Then perhaps,
You’re one of these Mr. Martin’s chaps,
Wot’s now a seeking for occasion,
All for to lie an information.”
Though this I stoutly did deny,
Bill up and gave me a blow in the eye,
And I replied, as I let fly
At his head, etc.
As Bill and I did break the peace,
To us came up the New Police,
And hiked us off, as sure as fate,
Afore the sitting Magistrate;
I told his worship all the spree,
And, for to prove my veracity,
I wish’d he would the animal see,
For I said, etc.
Bill’s donkey was ordered into Court,
In which he caus’d a deal of sport,
He cock’d his ears, and op’d his jaws,
As if he wish’d to plead his cause.
I prov’d I’d been uncommonly kind,
The ass got a verdict--Bill got fin’d;
For his worship and me was of one mind,
And he said, etc.
_SHOVEL AND BROOM._
THOUGH I’m but a Chimney Sweep I took a ticket
To go on one evening to Dusty Tom’s room,
Who dancing now teaches--he knows how to kick it,
For which he has quitted the shovel and broom,
For bow and the fiddle, pouchette down the middle,
He’s quitted for ever the shovel and broom.
The shovel and broom, the shovel and broom,
He has quitted for ever the shovel and broom.
I got for my partner, Paulina, the daughter,
Of Master Mount saddle, the Angel Inn groom,
Her red lips and plump figure made my mouth water,
And I fell in love, as ve valtzed round the room.
O, sich a creatur! my eye, vot a creatur!
A partner so fit for a knight of the broom,
The shovel and broom, a knight of the broom,
A partner so fit for a knight of the broom.
The whole of next morning I thought of her beauties,
And I, my employment could hardly resume,
Neglected, in fact, my professional duties,
And valtzed in the streets, as I’d valtzed in the room.
Till Jack Cragg the Carter, cried, Vot are you arter?
There twisting about with your shovel and broom,
Your shovel and broom, your shovel and broom,
For I valtzed in the mud with my shovel and broom.
Soon after, her father called me from the Cellar,
To a job at his lodging, a first floor back room,
As Pauline was alone there, I ventured to tell her
My love--but she vondered how I could presume,
In the sphere I was moving, to talk about loving,
And she turned up her nose at my shovel and broom.
My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom,
She turned up her nose at my shovel and broom.
To implore her I fell on my knees, but by Gemini,
She spurned me and quitted the room in a fume,
So bewildered was I, when my boy left the chimney,
I called him Pauline, as he stood with his broom,
Then ’cos the young beggar did grin like a nigger,
I battered his head with my shovel and broom.
My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom,
I battered his head with my shovel and broom.
O, this was my first love, and thus I was cross’d,
Ah, scorned by Paulina, how hard is my doom,
I grow moloncolly, this vorld I am lost in,
No more I’ll go valtzing in Dusty Tom’s room.
But think of her scorning, crying sveep of a morning--
And veep as I vorks vith my shovel and broom.
My shovel and broom, my shovel and broom,
I’ll veep as I vorks with my shovel and broom.
THIS ballad was, during its run, as popular as any street song I
remember. It had been forgotten, when Robson, that prince of
genuine comic actors, introduced it into the farce of “The
Wandering Minstrel,” and it fairly took the town by storm.
_VILIKINS AND HIS DINAH._
OH! ’tis of a rich merchant,
In London did dwell,
He had but one daughter,
An uncommon nice young gal!
Her name it was Dinah,
Scarce sixteen years old,
She had a large fortune
In silver and gold.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
As Dinah was valking
In the garden vun day,
Spoken--(_It was the front garden, not the back garden._)
Her papa came up to her,
And thus he did say,
Go, dress yourself, Dinah,
In gor-ge-ous array
And I’ll get you a husband,
Both val-ly-ant and gay.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
Spoken--_This is what the infant progeny said to the author of her
being_.
Oh, papa! oh, papa!
I’ve not made up my mind,
To marry just yet
I do not feel inclined,
And all my large fortune,
I’ll freely give o’er,
If you’ll let me stay single
A year or two more.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
_This is what the indignant parient replied--I represent the father._
Then go, boldest daughter,
The parient replied,
If you don’t consent to be
This here young man’s bride,
I’ll leave your large fortune
To the nearest of kin,
And you shan’t have the benefit
Of one single pin.
Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
_Now comes the epiflabbergastrinum of the lovier._
As Vilikins vas valking
The garden around--
(_The aforesaid front garden_,)
He spied his dear Dinah
Lying dead on the ground,
A cup of cold pison
It laid by her side,
And a billy dux stating
By pison she died.
_Taken inwardly_, Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
* * * * *
_This is what the lovier did._
Then he kissed her cold corpus
A thousand times o’er,
He called her his Dinah--
Though she was no more!
He swallowed the pison
Like a true lovier brave,
And Vilikins and his Dinah
Lie a-buried in one grave.
_Both on ’em_ Singing Too-ral-loo, etc.
MORAL.
Now all you young vimmen,
Take a warning by her,
And never by any means
Disobey the guv’ner:
And all you young fellers,
Mind who you clap eyes on,
Think on Vilikins and Dinah
And the cup of cold pison.
_Else you’ll be singing_ Too-ral-loo, etc.
_THE EXCISEMAN OUTWITTED._
TO a village that skirted the sea,
An Exciseman, one midsummer, came,
But prudence, between you and me,
Forbids me to mention his name.
Soon Michael he chanced to espy,
A cask on his shoulder he wore,
With six gallons of brandy, or nigh,
And where is the man can bear more?
Says th’ Exciseman, let’s see your Permit,
Says Mike, ’Tain’t convenient to show it,
T’other cried, Sir, I’m not to be bit,
For you’ve smuggled that stuff, and you know it.
Your hogs to a fine market you’ve brought,
For seeing you’ve paid no excise,
As Custom has settled you ought,
I seize on your tub, as my prize.
Now, do not be hard, said poor Mike,
The Exciseman was deaf to complaint,
Why then, take it, said Mike, if you like,
For I’ve borne it till ready to faint.
For miles in hot sunshine they trudg’d,
Till on them, they scarce had a dry rag,
Th’ Exciseman his labour ne’er grudged,
But carefully carried his cag.
To the Custom House, in the next town,
’Twas yet some three furlongs or more,
Then says Michael, pray set your load down,
For this here, Sir, is my Cottage door.
’Tother answered, I thank you, friend, No,
My burden, just yet, I shan’t quit,
Then, says Michael, before you do go
I’ll get you to read my permit.
Your Permit! Why not show it before?
Because it came into my nob,
By your watching for me on the shore,
That your worship was wanting a job.
Now, I’d need of a porter, d’ye see,
For that load made my bones for to crack,
And so, Sir, I thank you for me,
And wish you a pleasant walk back.
_GILES SCROGGINS GHOST._
GILES SCROGGIN courted Molly Brown,
Fol de riddle lol, de riddle lido,
The fairest wench in all the town,
Fol de riddle, etc.
He bought her a ring with a posy true,
If you loves I, as I loves you,
No knife can cut our loves in two.
Fol de riddle, etc.
But Scissars cut, as well as knives,
Fol de riddle, etc.
And quite unsartain’s all our lives,
Fol de riddle, etc.
The day they were to have been wed,
Fate’s scissars cut poor Giles’s thread,
So they could not be mar-ri-ed.
Fol de riddle, etc.
Poor Molly laid her down to weep,
Fol de riddle, etc.
And cried herself quite fast asleep,
Fol de riddle, etc.
When standing fast by her bed-post,
A figure tall, her sight engross’d,
And it cried, I be Giles Scroggin’s ghost.
Fol de riddle, etc.
The ghost it said all solemnly,
Fol de riddle, etc.
Oh! Molly, you must go with me,
Fol de riddle, etc.
All to the grave your love to cool,
Says she, I am not dead, you fool,
Says the ghost, says he, vy, that’s no rule.
Fol de riddle, etc.
The ghost then seiz’d her all so grim,
Fol de riddle, etc.
All for to go along with him,
Fol de riddle, etc.
Come, come, said he, e’er morning beam,
I von’t, said she, and scream’d a scream,
Then she woke, and found she’d dream’d a dream.
Fol de riddle, etc.
[Illustration]
_THE STRANGE MAN._
THERE was a man, tho’ it’s not very common,
And as people say he was born of a woman;
And, if it be true, as I have been told,
He was once a mere infant, but age made him old.
_Derry down._
His face was the oddest that ever was seen,
His mouth stood across ’twixt his nose and his chin;
Whenever he spoke it was then with his voice,
And in talking he always made some sort of noise.
_Derry down._
He’d an arm on each side to work when he pleased,
But he never worked hard when he lived at his ease,
Two legs he had got to make him complete,
And what is more odd, at each end were his feet.
_Derry down._
His legs, as folks say, he could move at his will,
And when he was walking he never stood still,
If you were to see him, you’d laugh till you burst,
For one leg or the other would always be first.
_Derry down._
And, as people say, if you gave him some meat,
Why, if he was hungry, he surely would eat,
And when he is dry, if you give him the pot,
The liquor most commonly runs down his throat.
_Derry down._
If this whimsical fellow had a river to cross,
If he could not get over, he staid where he was,
He seldom or ever got off the dry ground,
So great was his luck, that he never was drowned.
_Derry down._
Another misfortune befel this poor yeoman,
For when he was married his wife was a woman,
And if you’ll believe me tho’ he was revil’d,
You may truly aver he was never with child.
_Derry down._
And if it be true, as I have heard tell,
When he was sick, he was not very well,
He gave a large gasp, open’d his mouth so wide,
And, by some means or other, this poor fellow died.
_Derry down._
But the reason he died, and the cause of his death,
Was owing, poor soul, to the want of more breath,
And now he is left in the grave for to moulder,
Had he lived a day longer, he’d have been a day older.
_Derry down._
[Illustration]
_A SIGHT FOR A FATHER._
WHAT a pleasure it is to have a good wife,
One that is steady and willing,
To help and to comfort a man through his life,
One who knows how to eke out a shilling.
With my own little wife I can’t grumble at all,
But my family’s a rummy lot, rather,
Thirteen boys and girls I can count, great and small
Now there’s a fine sight for a father!
There’s Anna Maria, a young woman grown,
How often I wish she would marry!
She goes out every night (I can’t keep her at home)
With a young chap who calls himself Harry.
Out of doors, once, I bolted her tight,
And on the door I put a bar there,
But she said “Let me in, or I’ll stop out all night.”
Now there was a sight for a father!
Our Tom was so proud, he vowed he would be
Either a Squire or a Knight, Sir,
So to better his fortune he bolted from me,
And for many years kept out of sight, sir.
I stept in a shop to get shaved t’other day,
And my face was covered with lather,
When I found it was Tom who was scraping away,
Now here was a sight for a father!
On going home once, there was the devil to pay,
My wife she was calling for water,
From the neighbours I learnt some man ran away
With Amelia, my good-looking daughter.
My youngest girl Nance, on the very same day,
Wrote a letter, which made me mad rather,
To say she was in a particular way.
Now here was a sight for a father!
I’ve three great hulking boys, who in service won’t stop,
They’re too lazy to earn their own victuals,
They only seem happy when in the gin-shop,
And I’m told they’re all sharpers at skittles.
I get up every night to let in the dears,
But as soon as they spy their mamma there,
They jump into my bed, and I sleep on the chairs.
Now there’s a fine sight for a father!
There’s my last daughter Bet, the worst of them yet,
Her heart must be hard as the path stones,
For she’s run away with a queer-looking chap,
Who goes about selling of hearth stones.
With a bag on her back I met her once plump,
(I couldn’t help wishing her farther)
Crying out, “Hearth stones, a penny a lump.”
Now here was a sight for a father!
Now all married men, pray take my advice,
And if you would keep your honest right, Sirs,
Don’t let your daughters dress up over nice,
Nor ramble out late of a night, Sirs.
Keep your girls at their needles, your boys at their pens,
I’ve bought my experience dear, rather,
But be sure keep your girls away from the men,
Or, there’ll be a fine sight for a father!
_HUMOURS OF BARTLEMY FAIR._
COME bustle, neighbour Sprig, clap on your hat and wig,
In our Sunday clothes so gaily, let us strut up the Old Bailey,
O the devil take the rain, we may never go again,
See the shows have begun, O rare O!
Remember, Mr. Snip, to take care of Mrs. Snip,
There’s a little boy from Flanders, and that ’ere’s Master Glanders,
Stand aside, and we’ll have a stare, O!
How full’s the fair, Lord Mayor,
All is flurry, hurry, skurry,
Girls squalling, showmen bawling,
Cats throwing, trumpets blowing,
Rattles springing, monkeys grinning,
Rope dancing, horses prancing,
Sausage frying, children crying,
Dogs of knowledge, come from College,
Slack wire, eating fire,
Learned pigs of pigmy size,
Funny clowns, ups and downs,
Round about, all out,
What a throng, all along,
Politi’s show, all the go,
Just in time, that is prime,
To enjoy all the fun of the fair, O!
(Spoken) Vaulk up, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the vonderful birds and
beastesses, just arrived from Bengal in the Vest Indies. Vhy, look marm,
at this here beautiful hanimal; no less than two hundred spots on his
belly, but no two alike and every vone different; it’s out of the power
of any body to describe him. Well, positively, I never saw such a
beautiful creature in my life. Did you, Sir? A very fine looking animal,
’pon my soul, mem. Master Showman, how long do you suppose he measures?
Vhy! fifteen feet from the snout to the tail, and only twelve feet from
the tail to the snout. He lives to the advanced age of one hundred
years, grows a inch and a ’arf every hannual year, and never comes to
his full growth. Stir him up with the long pole, keeper--only hear how
he growls.
Here--here--the only booth in the fair for the greatest curiosity in all
the known world,--the wonderful and surprising Hottentot Venus is here,
who measures three yards and three quarters round her.
When the fair is at the full, in gallops a mad bull,
Puts the rabble to the rout; lets all the lions out;
Down falls Mrs. Snip, with a monkey on her hip,
We shall all be swallowed up, I declare, O!
Roaring boys, gilded toys,
Lolloypps shilling hops,
Tumble in, just begin,
Cups and balls, wooden walls,
Gin and bitters, apple fritters.
Pudding nice, penny a slice;
Shins of beef, stop thief!
A bang up swing, just the thing,
A dead dog, amongst the mob,
Lost hats, squalling brats,
Lost shoes, kangaroos,
O, Polly, where’s Molly?
Bow-wow, what a row
Is kicked up in Bartlemy fair, O!
(Spoken) Here, here, show ’em up here, show ’em up here. Now’s your
time, Ladies and Gentlemen--only twopence each, to see that surprising
Conjuror, the emperor of all conjurors, who will forfeit the enormous
sum of one hundred pounds to any one who shall perform the said wonders.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am no common sleight of hand man. The
common sleight of hand man, they turn the things up their sleeves, and
make you believe their fingers deceive your eyes. Now, Sir, you shall
draw one card, two cards, three cards, four cards, half a dozen cards:
you look on the card this side, you look on the card that side, and I
say blow, by the abominable-ba-be-bo-fe-jacko-crack-oh-feltho-swiftly
begone-quick-presto-passo-largo-mento-hi-coccolorum, the card is flown.
Where is it gone to? that is the question. Be so kind, Sir, as to stop
that there young woman from getting out of the crowd; I suppose she has
got it under her garter. Come, come, young woman, bring it forward,
bring it forward, and let me hold it up, that all the company may have a
squint at it.
Now the beasts with angry tooth all attack the booth,
Away affrighted run, birds and eagles of the sun,
Down tumbled trot legg’d Molly, who tips him the hue hollow,
Poor Card is in the mud, O, rare, O.
(Spoken) Here, here, vaulk up, ladies and gentlemen, here’s the
wonderful Kangaroo, just arrived from Bottomless Bay. Here is the
wonderful large baboon, that danced a padolo, and played at leap-frog
with the celebrated Master Barintar. Here is the wonderful
leopard-spotted tom cat, of the male species, which can as well see in
the dark as without light. Here is the wonderful little marmoza monkey,
just arrived from the Isle of Liliput: hold him up to the company,
master keeper. O dear me, what a little beauty, to be sure, do let me
stroke the dear little creature--la! la! how prodigious tame he is. Yes,
marm, he’s always very tame to the ladies.
Ye up, guvnor, what’s the name of that large bird there, stuck up in the
corner? Vat! that there vone? Oh! that’s the wonderful Sun eagle, the
hotter the sun is, the higher he flies. There’s the wonderful Cow, that
can’t live on dry land, and dies in the water. Billy, Billy, my boy, go
and stuff a blanket in that ere hole, or the little ones vill peep for
nothing. Here, here, now’s your time, ladies and gentlemen, jest a going
to begin, jest a going to begin. Stand off the steps there, you boys,
and make way for that gentleman with the smock frock and carbuncled nose
to come down. How did you like it, Sir? Oh, it’s all dam stuff. There,
there, only hear what a good character the gentleman gives it. Vaulk up,
ladies and gemmen, now’s your time to see that wonderful wooden Roscius,
Mr. Punch, for the small charge of vone penny. Show your tricks Mr.
Punch.
_GEORGY BARNWELL._
IN Cheapside there liv’d a merchant
A man he vas of wery great fame,
And he had a handsome prentice,
Georgy Barnwell vas his name.
This youth he vas both good and pious,
Dutiful beyond all doubt,
And he always staid vithin doors
’Cause his master vouldn’t let him out.
And much his master’s darter lov’d him,
She slept in next room to him, ’tis said,
And she bored a hole right through the wainscoat,
To look at Georgy going to bed.
A vicked voman of the town, sirs,
Hon him cast a vishful eye;
And she came to the shop, one morning,
A flannel petticoat to buy.
When she paid him down the money,
She gave his hand a wery hard squeeze,
Which so frightened Georgy Barnwell,
That together, he knocked his knees.
Then she left her card, vereon vas written
Mary Millwood does entreat,
That Mister Barnwell vould call and see her,
At Cummins’s in Dyot Street.
Now as soon as he’d shut the shop up,
He vent to this naughty dicky bird,
And ven he vent home the next morning,
Blow me if he could speak a vord.
Now soon this woman did persuade him,
Vith her fascinating pipes,
To go down into the country,
And let loose his uncle’s tripes.
There he found his uncle in the grove,
Studying hard at his good books,
And Georgy Barnwell vent and struck him,
All among the crows and rooks.
Ven Milwood found he’d got no money,
Not so much as to buy a jewel,
She vent that wery day and peached him,
Now vas not that ’ere werry cruel?
The Judge put his three cornered cap on,
And said--vich Barnwell much surprized,
You must hang until you dead are,
Then you must be a-nat-o-mized.
Now Georgy was hung upon a gibbet,
Molly Milwood died in prison,
At her fate no one lamented,
But every body pitied his’n.
The merchant’s darter died soon arter,
Tears she shed, but spoke no vords,
So all young men, I pray take varning,
Don’t go vith naughty dicky birds.