Page:Song book (1).pdf/5

 But since I've earned many a crown,
 * By the shop here in sweet Common garden.
 * Sing, fal de ral, &c.

Now the end of my song's drawing near,
 * I'll tell ye, but that's nothing new;

Now all my ambition's to try,
 * And do what I can to draw you;

In which, if I do but succeed,
 * And my efforts beguile you of pain;

I entreat you'll not wait to be asked,
 * To come often and see me again.

From Brighton two Paddies walked under the cliff,
 * For pebbles arid shells to explore,

When too a small barrel was dropt from a skiff,
 * Which floated at leugth to the shore ;

Says Dermont to Pat, we the owner will bilk,
 * To-night we'll be merry and frisky,

I know it as well as my own mother's milk,
 * Dear joy, 'tis a barrel of whisky.

Says Pat, I'll soon broach it, a fortunate lot,
 * Now Pat, yon must know was no joker;

Ill go to Tom Murphy, who lives in the cot,
 * And borrow his kitchen hot poker.

'Twas said and 'twas done, the barrel was bor'd,
 * No bachanals ever felt prouder,