OLE MAN GOV.
Ole man Gov.—
Didn’t have no love
Fer any of his help,
How they lived or died,
When they laffed or cried,
Was naught to the ole whelp.
He sez, sez he,
“It’s nuthin ter me,
What gait the critters ride,
If they makes ther day,
They gets ther pay,
That’s me, an’ durn ther hide.”
An ye kin bet
The hands doan’t fret
About ole man Gov. or hissen;
They does ther day
And pouches ther pay
An lets all else go fizzin.
Ye doan’t ketch they,
A-gettin gay,
Seein ole man ain’t done;
Not much, Siree,
They lets things be,
An hates that son of a gun.
So when he,
The ole screw-gee,
Raises pay up ten per cent.,
They doan’t believe,
But up his sleeve,
There’s a rod to some extent.
An tan my skin,
If it weren’t within
A few weeks, less or more,
When that ole Sardine,
Lets it be seen,
Wot’s wot, and we wuz sore.
Wot does he do?
This Reuben Glue,
He stretches the day out some,
By an hour and a half,
An’ gives us the laugh—
We’re so mad, that we sets dumb.
It’s a dum long worm,
That doesn’t squirm,
When ye foots it on his tail,
An I lays bets,
That some day we gets,
So square, it makes ole man pale.
