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Tune—Tight Irish Boy."

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1.

WHEN first I left Ireland, that dear little place,

And came here to London, my time to employ, The lasses all stared at the brogue on my face,

I talk'd, and I sung, and I drank, with such grace, For I was always

Prattling, rattling,
Quaffing, laughing,
Sporting, courting,
Joking, smoking,
Winking, drinking
Whiskey, frisky,
Rumical, comical,
Splash away, dash away,
Knocking down, stocking down,
Skipping up, tripping up,

Oh, botheration, a true Irish boy.

II.

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But soon it fell out, that in love I fell in,

My pleasure was pain, and all sorrow my joy; So to the dear creatures myself did begin,

To tell the sad work Cupid did here within,

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And I began with

Sobbing, throbbing,
Dying, sighing,
Kneeling, stealing,
Kisses, blisses,
Adoring, imploring,
Caressing, addressing,
Dear jewel, you're cruel,
No suarling, my darling,
Oh, honey! you're funny,
Grammachree, don't you see,
How I be,
Looking neat, loving sweet,
All so handy, quite the dandy,

Oh, botheration, a fond Irish boy.

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Now Jenny was mine, aud I lov'd her so well, jy Myself staid at home ev'ry evening to toy,

But what do you think, there was Catty and Nell,

With Bridget and Sue, och! as jealous as hell!

And to it they all fell,

Beating, prating,
Shouting, pouting,
Tearing, swearing,
Staring, daring,
Flying out, crying out,
Pulling caps, giving slaps,
Thundering, wondering, blundering,
Noise a making, sides a shaking,
Jaws a breaking,
Ubaboo, pillaloo,

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The painting the skin, we're by history told,
Was first introduced by the Britons of old;
And this is a fashion that's still thought a grace,
For it gives a new bloom to an old virgin's face.

The old English Barons sought liberty sweet,
And born to be free cast their chains at their feet,
King Edward and Henry new fashions bestowed,
And Richard himself was equipp'd a la-mode.

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With ladies the stomachers all were the ton,
They boasted long waists, tho' they lately had

none;
An excellent taste sure Queen Betty display'd,
When breakfast on porter and beaf-stakes she

made.

In the reign of King Charles you distinguished a

prig, By the length of his cane and the size of his wig; Cromwell's hats were quite broad--the heads thick

and round, Their hair bung like candles sixteen to the pound.

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Tho' fashion to vary for ever is prone,
One thing still exists, and will still be the ton,
For Englishmen always so brave and sincere,
Their King and their Country will ever revere.

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