Anonymous
When at hame wi' dad,
We niver had nae fun, sir,
Which meade me sae mad,
I swore away I'd run, sir.
I pack'd up clease(1) sae smart,
Ribbed stockings, weastcoats pretty;
Wi' money an' leet heart,
Tripp'd off to Lunnon city,
Fal de ral de ra.
When I did git there
I geap'd about quite silly,
At all the shows to stare
I' a spot call'd Piccadilly.
Lord! sike charmin' seights:
Bods(2) i' cages thrive, sir',
Coaches, fiddles, feights,
An' crocodiles alive, sir,
Fal de ral de ra.
Then I did gan to see
The gentry in Hyde Park, sir,
When a lass push'd readely(1) by,
To whom I did remark, sir:
"Tho' your feace be e'en sae fair,
I've seen a bear mair civil."
Then, the laatle clease they wear!
God! Lunnon is the divil,
Fal de ral de ra.
To t' play-house then I goes,
Whar I seed merry feaces,
An' i' the lower rows
Were sarvants keepin' pleaces.
The players I saw sean,
They managed things quite funny;
By gock! they'd honey-mean
Afore they'd matrimony.
Fal de ral de ra.
Now havin' seen all I could
An' pass'd away my time, sir,
If you think fit an' good,
I'll e'en give up my rhyme, sir.
An', sud my ditty please,
The poppies in this garden
To me would be heart's-ease;
If not, I axe your pardon.
Fal de ral de ra.
1. Clothes 2. Birds 3. Rudely