Who for no sort o’ boose that’s brewed had ever been the wuss.
“Let’s have a wet,” said Bill one day. Said Joseph, “Not for Joe!”
No wonder Bill was riled at that—he would be, don’t you know.
So later on, when he’d got screwed, he made for Joseph’s room,
As sat at tea, all unprepared to meet his orful doom.
Bill landed him upon the nose a wunner, so he did,
And then perceeded for to kick Joe’s missis and his kid.
He jumped upon the three of them, and then he come away—
You can’t see where his heart was soft, I think I heard you say.
Hold on; don’t take a feller up so precious sharp as that—