When Christmas comes about again,
Oh, then I shall have money;
I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,
I’ll give it to my honey:
I would it were ten thousand pound,
I’d give it all to Sally:
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
My master and the neighbors all
Make game of me and Sally,
And, but for her, I’d better be
A slave and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out,
Oh, then I’ll marry Sally!
And then how happily we’ll live,
But not in our alley.
