And the watchmen past twelve are bawling, love,
So step down this ladder,
For I’ve, in a bladder,
Some whisky, that “drink me” is calling, love.
I’ve had nothing to-day but porter love,
With some glasses of gin and water, love,
So if you come down,
I’ll lay you a crown
That this bladder we quickly will slaughter, love.
I’ve some onions, and bread, and cheese, my love,