A Norfolk capon[134] is jolly grub
When you wash it down with strength of bub[135]
But dearer to me Sue’s kisses far,
Than grunting peck or other grub are,
And I never funks the lambskin men,[136]
When I sits with her in the boozing ken.
Her duds[137] are bob[138]—she’s a kinchin crack[139]
And I hopes as how she’ll never back;[140]
For she never lushes dog’s soup or lap,[141]
But she loves my cousin the bluffer’s[142] tap.