And a nice handsome gown on the tally.
Such a bustle, oh! dear, she does wear,
Why cut up with pride I am sure she is,
Some can always see other folks’ faults,
But they never can mind their own business
Mrs Stradle has just gone along,
Don’t you think she’s a queer sort of creature
She owes tenpence for chandler’s shop score,
Besides eighteen pence for the baker.
And she can drink gin like a fish,