More Bab Ballads by Sir W. S. (William Schwenck) Gilbert
page 79 of 149 (53%)
page 79 of 149 (53%)
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With some one thrice your age, MATILDA?
You squatted free upon his knee, A sight that made me sad, MATILDA! You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak, Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA! I knew him not, but hoped to spot Some man you thought to wed, MATILDA! I took a gun, my darling one, And shot him through the head, MATILDA! I'm made of stuff that's rough and gruff Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA! It DID annoy your sailor boy To find it was your pa, MATILDA! I've passed a life of toil and strife, And disappointments deep, MATILDA; I've lain awake with dental ache Until I fell asleep, MATILDA! At times again I've missed a train, Or p'rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA, And worn a boot on corns that shoot, Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA. But, oh! no trains--no dental pains-- Believe me when I say, MATILDA, No corns that shoot--no pinching boot Upon a summer day, MATILDA-- It's my belief, could cause such grief As that I've suffered for, MATILDA, |
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