4
And if there should happen ever to be
A diff’rence a’tween my wi’ wifie and me,
In hearty good humour, altho’ she be teas’d,
I’ll kiss her, and clap her, until she be pleas’d
And bide ye yet, &c.
paddy's legacy.
My father he left me a snug little cot,
Which by one trifling accident I never got,
For dying without his will having been made,
Not a legacy in it ever was paid.
'Twas a neat little cot, built with weatherboard stout,
Which kept every thing else but the weather clean out,
Had a pig stye for poultry without any door,
It was two stories high, and both on the ground floor.
A beautiful garden, with weeds overgrown,
And an elegant fish-pond dried up by the sun
Then the house stood convenient enough you may say,
Next door to the whisky-shop over the way.
