“There’s farmer Giles’s daughter, Sue,”—
“Au knows her reet weel,” says Neddy,
“Well, her, my lad, I’d have you woo,”—
“She’s but so so,” thought Neddy.
“But tell me feythur, when au goa to woo,
Whot au mun say, aun what au mun do,
For if au knowe, au’m a Turk or a Jew,
But au’ll do whot au con,” says Neddy.
Says farmer Hodge “Come, listen, my son,”
Straight pricked up his ears, did Neddy,
“And I’ll tell thee the way thy mother I won,”
“Now for some fun,” thought Neddy.
“I wink’d, and I blink’d, and I look’d mighty shy,
At her, askance I threw a sheep’s eye,
Till she no longer my suit could deny;”
“Au’ll do it, by Gour,” says Neddy.
So, early next day, to a butcher he went,
Right full of glee was Neddy,
And three or four shillings in sheep’s eyes he spent,
On the wings of love flew Neddy.
And when to the damsel he came to woo,
Out of his pocket some sheep’s eyes drew,
Which one by one at the damsel he threw,
“Au have hur, cock-sure,” says Neddy.
The delicate damsel stood with surprise,
Still firing away kept Neddy,
“What the deuce do you mean by these nasty sheep’s eyes?”
“Ask my feythur abewt it,” says Neddy.
The joke was so good, she could not withstand,
And said, “My purse and money are at your command,”
And dropt him a curtsey, and gave him her hand,
“Sheep’s eyes for ever!” cried Neddy.
CAB, CAB, CAB.[23]
I goes out a cab driving,
And oft the long day through,
In spite of all contriving,
I scarcely make a do.
A Hansom Cab I’ve got,
A handsome horse to trot,
Cab, Cab, Cab, your honour, Cab,
I’ll take you like a shot.
Now, If you’ll hear my ditty,
I’ll tell how I was done,
By a fat man in the City,
Of two and twenty stone.
I plied at Holborn Hill,
Says he, to Pentonville,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I want a Cab,
Drive fast and show your skill.
My horse’s eyes I kivered,
While he got in; you know
If he’d see’d his weight he’d differed
And perhaps refused to go.
To Pentonville I went,
When to me says this here gent,
Cab, Cab, Cab, here’s some mistake,
’Tis Pimlico I meant.
To Pimlico I took him,
My horse as you’d suppose,
This job did nearly cook him,
When again the check string goes.
He says to me, Hallo!
Hold hard a bit, go slow,
Cab, Cab, Cab, you’re wrong again,
Turn back and drive to Bow.
I didn’t like to grumble,
But mounted it once more,
All the way to Bow did trundle,
Where he stopped me as before.
Says he, when there he’d rode,
This isn’t my abode,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I think you’re drunk,
This ain’t the Edgware Road!