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[This mournful ballad was sung by a goody, who said that it had been handed down among the goodies from generation to generation.]
THERE was a young gintleman in Howlwurrthee
An' his name was Mishter Green.
In all ither room I swept and claned,
There was no sich a quare spalpeen.
Och wurra, wurra, wurra, theadigh taof theadh vocathe.
Furr he was a lurned gintleman,
An' would rade an' wroite almost daily
An' he had a certhificate sthuck up on the wall
Which was wrote boy the Shakspere shillaly.
Refrain as above.
One mornin' I found him moighty riled,
'Bout the way the Bosser was thraited,
An' he towld me I'd see the way he'd spake up,
Begorra! if ownly I waited.
Refrain as above.
An' shure an' he showed me a beautiful pace
An' also a serious shtory,
An' a sarmon or two jist boy the way,
Foiner thin any of Faither Mallory.
Refrain as above.
An' when he saw how deloited I samed
He smoiled an' he giv' me a shillin',
"Furr," says he, "ye're an appreciative characther,
Of all goodies I know the most willin."
Refrain as above.
Soon after 'tis a yell in room I hearrd,
An' I run to see 'bout that goody's frind.
Och! th' unhappy mavourneen had howld iv a poeker-
His chum's 'twas - by the rid hot end!
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