Chorus. Frisk the cly, etc.,
And though I don’t work capital[268],
And do not weigh my weight[269], sirs,
Who knows but that in time I shall,
For there’s no queering fate, sirs.
If I’m not lagged to Virgin-nee[270],
I may a Tyburn show be[271],
Perhaps a tip-top cracksman[272] be
Or go on the high toby[273].
Chorus. Frisk the cly, etc.,