They are going to pull down the old rectory next year,
So I hear,
Long lines of ships at moorings used to lie
Besides the wharves of 'Frisco. All the day
Hear the chorus in that tie-up, runch, ger-
runch, and runch and runch!
She's a Liverpool ship, an' becalmed on the Line;
Ain't it hell when a Liverpool sailor must dine?
“Where are you bound for,
Sailorman, sailorman
I seen her once for just a jiff; it was a misty day,
Wi' sea birds mewin' i' the rain an' porpoises at play;
I took the book of punishment,
And ran its columns down;
You ought'er come over to our yard.
Oh boy! But we have fun!
Have you never seen sweet Ellen Vale,
Or roamed the spacious park?
IT’S nobbut a year
Sin’ Ruth Moore wur ridin’
LILE bonnie calf I hand-reared
When t' white cow wur taken away,
Home to old Saddleworth, home once more,
How my heart is stirred to its innermost core;
They've tipped and they've shoveled, they've trimmed and they've stored,
And she's down to her load-line as ever;
Dear Pater wrote McMuirland's; McMuirland's wrote him back; --
"We'll take your son with pleasure, Sir, although the trade is slack
|