“Oh! when I was a lad,
Says my crusty old dad,
Says he,—‘Jack! you must stick to the spade, oh!”
But he grudged me my prog,
And he grudged me my grog,
And my pipe of the real Trinidado.
“Says my Syousan to me,—
‘Jack, if you goes to sea,
I’ll be left but a desolate maid, oh!’
Then I answers her—‘Sue!