Read from some humble geezer,
Whose songs ban sveet to hear—
Who making, from his poetry,
'Bout saxteen cents a year.
Ay lak to hear his yingles,
Ay tell yu, dey ban fine;
Dis har ban vy ay lak dem—
Dey ban so much lak mine.
Such songs have gude, nice sound—
Dey making sorrow fly;
Dey coming lak glass of seltzer
Vich follows drenk of rye.
And night skol be full of music,
And tengs we lak to forget
Skol fold op tents lak yipsies,
And sneaking avay, yu bet!