To market she went, to buy him some tripe,
When she came back he was smoking his pipe.
Why, sure, cried the dame, you’d beat the great Jocko.
Who before ever saw a dog smoking tobacco?
She went to the alehouse to buy him some beer,
When she came back he sat on a chair.
Drink hearty, said Dame, there’s nothing to pay,
’Twill banish your sorrow and moisten your clay.
She went to the fruiterer’s to buy him some fruit,
When she came back he was playing the flute.
Oh, you musical dog, you surely can speak:
Come, sing me a song, then he set up a squeak.
She went to the tavern for white wine and red,
When she came back he stood on his head.
This is odd, said the dame, for fun you seem bred,
One would almost believe you’d wine in your head.