De first time dat I eber got a licken,
’Twas down at de forks ob de cotton picken;
Oh! it made me dance, it made me tremble,
I golly, it made my eyeballs jingle.
Oh, Bob Ridley ho, &c.
New York City am a mighty fine one,
For beauty and location it ain’t behind none;
Oh! de ladies all look so sweet and gidley,
Wonder dey don’t fall in love wid old Bob Ridley.
Oh, Bob Ridley ho, &c.
Kate Kearney.
Oh! did you ne’er hear of Kate Kearney?
She lives on the banks of Killarney:
From the glance of her eye, shun danger and fly,
For fatal’s the glance of Kate Kearney.
For that eye is so modestly beaming,
You ne’er think of mischief she’s dreaming;
Yet, oh! I can tell, how fatal’s the spell,
That lurks in the eye of Kate Kearney.
O should you e’er meet this Kate Kearnev,
Who lives on the bank of Killarney,
Beware of her smile, for many a wile
Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney.
Though she looks so bewitchingly simple,
Yet there’s mischief in every dimple;
And who dares inhale her sigh’s spicy gale,
Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney.