On which he’d been a blowing all the way;
He was sitting on a van, and out on the randan,
A going to Rye House to spend the day.
For a few hours free from strife, ’cos he’d got a nagging wife,
But his plan to keep it quiet was in vain,
For a pal just for a game, went and told the Tailor’s dame,
So she took her eighteenpenn’orth down by train.
Singing, Hilly holly ho, listen to my tale of woe,
Of this Tailor’s dinner anniversary,
When every jolly snip, was enjoying of his trip,