There’s some above and some below;
There’s one that keeps good ale and pop,
He also keeps a liquor shop;
He sells roast beef down in Queen Street,
His house is always clean and neat—
Old Nanny Mason comes in with her nuts,
And on the floor her basket puts;
A curtsey drops, “Kind sirs,” says she,
“Mine age is nearly eighty-three.”—
Old Timms comes in, “All hot,” did cry,