Dough he vas kilt von two ash six eight couple of times, he shumps up un fites again,
Dill his hed vas all splitted open down pack, un den de blood comes down like rain;
Un py and py come dere de coroner mit de shury, un sit on him apout dwenty-two hours ash tree-quarters, un shqueeze all de preth out of his pody, den dey prings in a verdigrass, vot he dies from prandy and vater on de prain,
Does dis fine old Dietchen shentleman, de subject of dis song.
Over the Left.
I am thine in thy gladness,
I am thine in thy tears,
My love, it can change not
In absence or years.
Were a dungeon thy dwelling,