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CHORUS.
So right leg, left leg, under leg, over leg,
Barbara Bell, my darling.
I being a rake, and not fond of work,
I drest myself up to go to Leeds’ fair,
With my braw new hat and braw ruffl’d shirt;
And dicky the barber shook flour on my hair.
These Leeds’ lasses are always for fun,
Some drinks cider and some drinks rum.
But long-legged Davie he kick’d up a tune,
And he capper’d away with Barbara Bell,
Chorus, Right leg. &c.
Wha came in but Rob o' the neuk,
With Dicky and Sally and twa or three mair,
And off my knee they would Barbara take.
Says I, why hang it, that is not fair;
So Robin he kick d up a dust in a crack,
Sticks and neeves they gade pell mell;
Clock faces besides and glasses they broke,
