Page:Merryman songster.pdf/2

 MERRYMAN SONGSTER.

WE WONT GO HOME TILL MORNING.

THE jolly old tunǃ where goes he at night? And what does he do when he's out o' sight? (Insinuation scorning);- We don't mean to say that he tipples space; We only know he's a very red face, When he gets up in the morning, So here we are merry as grigs, And here we'll stay, an' it please the pigs, Old time and his dry glass scoring! The jolly old sun he shall hear us sing, Till this whisling world to its centre doth ring, And we won't go home till morning!

Then, there's the stars-those twinkling dugs, Perch'd up there 'mid the clouds and the fogs, (Bless' em, they're always a winking!) Among them were without any doubt, Some of 'em sometimes rumble shout- Oh, they're sly little chaps, I'm thinkingǃ So here we are is merry as grigs, And here we'll stay it please the pigs, The queer little stars they shall bear us sing. Till this whirligig world in centre doth ring, And we won't go home till morning!

Then, the lady-moon, creeping at night, Mincing along her way so bright, While the dew on the mountain is sleeping, But the funny old maid, 'twixt me and you She's marvellous fond o' the mountain-dew, And sips it when nobody's peeping. Since the sun and the moon and stars agree, There's nothing like fun and jollity. Such option we won't be scorning; But here we'll sit as merry as grigs, And here we'll stay, an' it please the pigs, And we won't go home till morning!