Gabble o' the goose. Don't bugaboo-baby me! |
I've read in many a novel, that unless they've souls that grovel - Folks prefer in fact a hovel to your dreary marble halls. |
Read not Milton, for he is dry; nor Shakespeare, for he wrote of common life. |
The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, That wholly consisted of lines like these. |