I wore my new pelisse all satin and whiteness,
A new five shilling piece had never such brightness
I should have ta’en his arm, but there was another—
O, thou hast been the cause of this anguish—my mother.
And once again we met that dashing young fellow,
It rain’d heavy wet, he’d a green umbrella;
He said, a worthy Jew, for nine-pence did mend it,
He said, ’twas good as new, and offer’d to lend it.
I thought there was no harm—I was going to take it;
My mother pull’d my arm, ’till I thought she would break it!