I
The budge it is a delicate trade, [1]
And a delicate trade of fame;
For when that we have bit the bloe,[2]
We carry away the game:
But if the cully nap us, [3]
And the lurries from us take, [4]
O then {they rub}{he rubs} us to the whitt [5]
{And it is hardly }{Though we are not} worth a make [6]