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 I don't know that the old boss can. I've heard he's pushed to make ends meet. To me he's been a fair, straight man That pays up well an' works a treat. But if I don't get in this game, Well, "blackleg" ain't a pretty name.

This thing has got me thinkin' hard. But there is worse upon my mind. What sort of luck has broke my guard That I should be the man to find A girl like that? … The whole world's wrong! Why was I born to live and long?

I get so down to it last night. With broodin' over things like this, I said "There's not a thing in sight Worth havin' but I seem to miss." So I go out to get some air An' have a word with old Bob Blair.

Bob's livin' lonely, same as me; But he don't take to frettin' so An' gettin' megrims after tea. He reads a lot at night, I know; His hut has books half up the wall That I don't tumble to at all.