What is your good will, sir, &c.
My will is for to marry, &c.
Will ever a one of us do? &c.
You’re all so black and so browsy.
You sit in the sun and get frowsy,
With golden chains about your necks,
You’re all so black and so browsy.
Quite as good as you, sir, &c.
[There is more of this, but it has been forgotten by my authority.]
—Thos. Baker, junr. (Midland Garner, N. S., ii. 32).
Here comes a duke a-riding,
With a ransom, tansom, titta passee!
Here comes a duke a-riding,
With a ransom, tansom, tee!
Pray what is your good will, sir?
With a ransom, tansom, titta passee!
Pray what is your good will, sir?
With a ransom, tansom, tee!