Chorus.
"Wot cher!" all the neighbours cried.
"Who're yer goin' to meet, BILL?
'Ave yer bought the street, BILL?"
Missus, she the Shamrock waved with pride.
Knock'd 'em in the West-min-is-ter Road!
Some sez werry soon the moke'll stop;
Not hup to our weight, but bound ter drop.
No use whackin' 'im with pole or prop,
'Cos the warmint wasn't made to go.