Page:Bold dragoon.pdf/4

 And if there should happen ever to be

A diff’rence a’tween my wi’ wifie and me,

In hearty good humour, altho’ she be teas’d,

I’ll kiss her, and clap her, until she be pleas’d

And bide ye yet, &c.

My father he left me a snug little cot,

Which by one trifling accident I never got,

For dying without his will having been made,

Not a legacy in it ever was paid.

'Twas a neat little cot, built with weatherboard stout,

Which kept every thing else but the weather clean out,

Had a pig stye for poultry without any door,

It was two stories high, and both on the ground floor.

A beautiful garden, with weeds overgrown,

And an elegant fish-pond dried up by the sun

Then the house stood convenient enough you may say,

Next door to the whisky-shop over the way.