And chanced to see a maid, ahead o’ me.
She’d such a charmin’ air,
Her back—was French—I’d swear,
And she wore her ’at as rakish as could be.
I says, ‘My pretty dear,
Since you an’ I are ’ere,
Perhaps you’d take me arm and walk along?’
She turned her pretty ’ead,
And looked—at me—and said,
‘You just get on, my lad, and hold your tongue!’”