And that croup or rheumatics would lay 'em in the mould;
But they seemed to survive every babbyish disease,
Vich their venomous enemies did not qvite please.
But, in course, sich hard lines did the kiddies no good;
They got vet in the storm, they got lost in the vood,
But their dad cried, "I'll yet save these kids if I can!"—
(Chorus)—
'Cos their feyther he vos sich a dogged old man!
Foes hoped he'd go out of his depth,—or his mind,—
Or, cutting his stick, leave his babbies behind,