Gittin' used to his feet
On de solid ground.
I play it cool I dig all jive
DEY had a gread big pahty down to Tom's de othah night;
Was I dah? You bet! I neveh in my life see sich a sight;
Burgum, I thank thee, thou hast let me see
That Bristol has impress'd her stamp on thee,
The train of cars that Santa brought is out of kilter now;
While pa was showing how they went he broke the spring somehow.
Down the stream the swans all glide; It's quite the cheapest way to ride.
I wish I had a barrel of rum
and sugar three hundred pound.
or return my napkin, whose value
doesn’t disturb me, truly,
Show me the boy who never threw
A stone at someone's cat;
I'm walking backwards for Christmas, Across the Irish Sea,
I camped one night in an empty hut on the side of a lonely hill.
I didn’t go much on empty huts, but the night was awful chill.
Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,
While the white foam raises high,
On Seeing One on a Lady's Bonnet at Church
Ha! whare ye gaun' ye crowlin ferlie?
There's a little sallow idle man lives north of Waterloo, And he owns the toughest music hall in town.
What can you do with a woman under thirty?
It's true she has a certain freshness, like a green apple,
I sat beside a lady fair,
A lady grave and sweet;
A parody of "If I Should Die" by Benjamin Franklin King (1857-1894).
He has notions of Australia from the tales that he’s been told—
Land of leggings and revolvers, land of savages and gold;
Stand fast amidst the darkness! Ah! my dear, 'Tis easy loving where the sunshine falls,
Little Miss Muffet discovered a tuffet,
(Which never occurred to the rest of us)
It occurred on the evening before Waterloo
and troops were lined up on Parade,
Little Prince Tatters has lost his cap!
Over the hedge he threw it;
My Pa he eats his breakfast in a funny sort of way:
So you're back from up the country, Mister Lawson, where you went,
And you're cursing all the business in a bitter discontent;
Sometimes at night through the shadowy trees
She rides along on a winter breeze.
This happened in the years gone by before the bush was cleared,
When every man was six foot high and wore a heavy beard;
Oh! little loveliest lady mine,
What shall I send for your valentine?
Gone, gone! The rayless window sheds no light Upon my upturned eyes; the graceful girl
'Tis very odd that poets should suppose There is no poetry about a nose,
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